omnia vincit amor
by SyrenGrey
Summary: Dark days are here at Hogwarts, and the darkest cloud of all is hanging over Draco Malfoy's head. Already burdened with the impossible task of murdering the Headmaster, life becomes more complex when an elusive prophecy entangles him with a bushy-haired enemy, and a steamy forbidden romance unfolds. DMHG.
1. I: The Wheel of Fortune

Author's Note: Obviously I'm not JKR and these characters, locations, and the HP universe don't belong to me. I just like to make believe about 'em. :)

I: **The Wheel of Fortune**

»»-¤-««

Vapor. All Draco Malfoy could see was the ghost of his breath as he exhaled, the dense white mist lingering before his face contrasting against the midnight navy Scotland night.

The cold air was crippling, but he relished in it. What would happen if he took an extra step off the tower? How long would it take before he would be able to take the fate of his life into _his own_ hands? But no, he was not the type to permanently harm himself. He just needed to brood, and brood he did often, finding solace in the high altitude and crisp, clean air of the Astronomy tower. He would look up at the stars that he could not name and lose himself in the quiet of the night. Quiet, despite the nagging voices in his head reminding him of his impending doom. Reminding him that regardless of how calm his environment may be, he has a task that he cannot fail. His family, his safety, his life, everything was riding on the impossible task to… to… He shook his head. That's enough, he didn't need to think about it anymore.

He exhaled again until there was no more air to expel from his lungs. His fingers tingled from the cold and he could no longer feel his nose. Perhaps it was time to turn back; after all, he had his sixth year courses in the morning, not that it mattered anymore. Not that anything mattered anymore. He hardly felt his legs move beneath him as he made his way back inside, his heels clicking loudly against the tile floor as the weight of his body pushed open the door to the Astronomy Tower. Down a flight of stairs, and past the divination classrooms. Like clockwork, he could map his route blindfolded. And yet something was different on that evening. _What is that?_ he thought. Though the dim halls appeared still as always, the air buzzed with the faint echo of a murmur. Transfixed, Draco found himself compelled to follow the sound until it revealed itself, the faint words formed into a chant. His hand pressed against the cold heavy wooden door and his eyes scanned the room. His nostrils filled with the scent of musk, earth, and spices.

"Let it be heard," came a soft, hurried whisper. Draco recognized the voice and moved closer toward it, curiosity besting him. "During this ephemeral Piscean moon, cleanse all evil spirits from within and - and -"

"Professor?" Draco spoke, unsure of what exactly he was encountering. _She's off her rocker_ , he told himself. Professor Trelawney's actions had always baffled Draco, though he never cared enough to try and understand them; he didn't know if he stood a chance at comprehending what she was up to in the middle of the night while her hands were cupping a chestnut colored glowing crystal ball.

Her face snapped up at him, her normally blazing green eyes were misty and out of focus behind her thick spectacles.

"Dark deeds," she said in a voice that sounded too forceful to be her own, "rest on the shoulders of the dragon who will know no rest."

He blinked, wondering if he had heard her right.

"Whose task shall maim all wizard kind, lest he find respite in the one."

"Professor, I don't underst -"

"With the virgin born beyond the arcane, whose star-crossed paths will intertwine."

" _Virgin?_ " he stumbled back, his head spinning with the attempt to comprehend this mad-woman.

"In time, their love will vanquish, lest their wrath consume us all," she finished, her words lingering in the air as though too heavy to dissipate.

Draco's eyes stung, and he realized that he had not blinked in several moments. The hovering line of smoke, from burning frankincense, swirled around the doe-eyed, messy woman before him. In an instant, she shook her head, causing the fog to disperse, disoriented.

"Oh! Mister Malfoy," he jumped at her words, "what on earth are you doing here?" He stared at her, dumbfounded. He noticed that her eyes had returned to their cloudless state and her voice had returned to the ethereal pitch he was used to.

"I was just," he cleared his throat, "I was doing my rounds. You know, prefect duties."

"Ah, yes of course. I didn't see you come in, though to be perfectly frank I feel a bit funny. Saturn must be in Sagittarius now…"

The more she spoke, the less Draco understood. "What do you mean ' _the virgin born beyond the arcane_ '? Whose love will vanquish what? What does all that mean?"

"Pardon?" It was Trelawney's turn to stare at him disoriented, and Draco exhaled in exasperation, struggling to verbalize his own confusion. "My dear boy, you must be tired. You are making no sense at all! The lunar cycle must be altering your aura, dear. Ah, but I must head to bed anyway, I must be experiencing some dizzy spell."

Without another word, she slipped out of her seat and left, leaving Draco to stare at the crystal ball with the chestnut colored glow.

»»-¤-««

The fire crackled and roared as Hermione's toes finally warmed up in front of the fireplace. She, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley were all seated in front of the red flames, the two boys engaged in wizard's chess while Hermione flipped through her Potions book, attempting to memorize the recipes before reaching the recipe for the Draught of the Living Death. Her lips formed a scowl.

"So you just _happened_ to know to crush the Sopophorous bean rather than cut it, did you?" Harry looked up at her and sighed, clearly tired of the conversation they had numerous times that week.

"I improvised, is that so hard to believe?"

"It is. But that's alright, I have a date with the library soon and I don't intend on leaving there until I learn how you crafted that draught without any issues, Harry."

"Oh, you've gone and done it," Ron said, moving his knight to take Harry's rook, "we don't stand a chance at ever seeing her again since she's setting up camp in her beloved library." Harry shrugged as Hermione's scowl deepened. "I call dibs on her finished homework," he whispered to Harry who grinned in response.

"It's fine," she said, ignoring their lightheartedness as Harry and Ron exchanged skeptical glances, "I just thought I'd study a bit since we've got our N.E.W.T.-level classes this year. You two should start on the Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, it takes at least three hours."

"Ugh!" Ron said, and Hermione wasn't sure whether that was in response to her statement or the fact that Harry had just taken his bishop.

"And I doubt," she continued, pulling her knee-high socks back on, "Snape will go easy on us now that he's finally teaching Defense." The boys nodded, deeply distracted in the final few moves of their chess game, before she excused herself and grabbed her book bag, making her way to the library.

The familiar scent of the library was always nostalgic to her, taking her back to First Year when she would spend nearly every day pouring over each text book. It's not as though she wasn't as studious in her sixth year, but her obsessive demeanor had mellowed as she grew up, her priorities shifting with each year that Voldemort's threat grew and her life seemed more and more fragile. Still, she relished in the solid stillness of the library and the hushed whispers of the students attempting to learn something new.

She picked her favorite spot, deep within the library near the window that overlooked the lake. With a thud, she dropped a pile of four or five books specializing in the potions that she would no doubt be required to create for Professor Slughorn. She dove in, scribbling notes in her leatherbound journal about the history of each potion, the people who crafted them, and the ingredients based on location and season. She struggled to find some edge, _any_ edge that would prevent her from failing another potion. It's not as though she wasn't proud of Harry, and in a way she felt she should be ashamed at how upset and jealous she was at not completing the potion correctly, but years of success through diligent effort left her feeling as though she _should_ have done better.

"Granger," a voice said. Hermione looked up to peer into smoky grey eyes peering down at her.

"Er, yes?" she said, sitting up, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I need this book," he pointed at one of her books, _Tips and Tricks to Drafting Draughts_. As she looked at him again, she noticed how much he had changed over the years. His once child-like pointed features were now chiseled and rigid. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair - although still slicked back as was his trademark - was now a bit messier and covered some of his forehead. He wore black now, at all times, and although he had always been a healthy child he had thinned and his broad shoulders were prominent against his lithe frame.

"Well," she hardened, "I don't know what to tell you, I need to read it too. You'll have to find another copy."

"There is no other copy," he spoke through his teeth, impatiently, "listen, can I just - just sit here and read it?" He pulled out a chair across from her and slipped into it without waiting for her response.

"Fine!" she huffed, "I suppose, but don't take it with you, I need it."

"Why," he spoke under his breath, "to get O's on your O.W.L.s again? You've already surpassed everyone, why bother anymore?" Hermione didn't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, but she scowled regardless, staying silent as she shoved the book toward Malfoy.

There was something different about him entirely. The way Draco Malfoy shifted in his seat, hurriedly skimming through pages as he located the one he was looking for. His eyes scanned as if there was nothing in the world that could distract him anymore, as if nothing in the world could penetrate his focus. It was unnerving, and Hermione found herself distracted by his presence. _What is he looking for, anyway?_ She thought to herself, peering at the pages that Malfoy had landed on and was now intently immersed in. _Felix Felicis? Why is he trying to learn about that? It's in our itinerary, we are going to attempt to craft that in a few weeks,_ Hermione thought. Her gaze wandered. His long fingers were tracing the lines of the pages and she found herself entranced in his languid, fluid movement. He looked like a man, like he had never looked before. His fingers were long and thin, silver rings decorated some of his fingers, and a leather cuff was wrapped snugly around his wrist. He reminded her of someone, like a muggle rockstar, or Gilderoy Lockhart if he had been sorted into Slytherin. _Hermione Granger, you dolt. Are you really comparing your childhood nemesis to Gilderoy Lockhart? Granted, Lockhart did turn out to be a bit of a prat, didn't he?_ She rolled her eyes at herself, and chuckled.

Perhaps she forgot that she was in a library with other people, but her chuckle did not go without attracting attention. Malfoy looked up slowly, his gaze pinning her down. Hermione felt the hot crawl of a blush sneak up her neck and rest in her cheeks as she avoided his eye contact.

"This," she stammered, "this book is just funny."

"That book is funny? _Eighth Century Potionmasters and their Canny Apprentices_ is a funny book?" Hermione would have laughed at herself if she didn't feel so embarrassed by this moment. She was grateful that Malfoy was not adept at Legilimency, otherwise she would not have been able to live another day without shame.

"Yes, actually, these people led very interesting and sometimes, er, amusing lives," she retorted and bowed her head into her book, hoping that her blush would subside.

"You're odd, Granger."

 _He may be right_ , she told herself, though once she had recovered from the embarrassment she began to feel an entirely new wave of humiliation for having looked at Malfoy that way. _Stupid hormones_ , she thought. Her mother had always warned her that adolescence was a funny phase, but she never thought she would be checking out the spoiled, self-absorbed boy that was Draco Malfoy. _Anyway,_ she told herself, _it's not like I care for him. He's just grown up. Any girl would notice that; he's probably still the same old hateful brat that he always has been._

Nearly half an hour of studying had passed before she realized that a book was being prodded in her direction. Malfoy was holding up the book he had borrowed toward her, absently engaged in another book. She reached to take it and mumbled an impulsive, "thanks," before her eyes made out that he was reading a book on Divination.

"Why are you reading that? Are you even taking Divinations this year?" she said curiously. Malfoy's eyebrows furrowed in irritation before he looked up at her.

"I am not," he stated sternly, a strand of pale blond hair was covering one of his eyes but he made no move to fix it. "I did not expect that if I continued to sit here I'd be hounded for my choice of literature. Should I move?"

"I -" _He has a point_ , a voice said in Hermione's mind, _it was a bit nosey of you_. Hermione sighed, frustrated, "I didn't realize I was meddling -"

"It's fine," he brushed off the rest of her apology, "It's all a crock of shit anyway, isn't it?" A small smile played at the edge of his lips and Hermione reciprocated with a smile of her own and a small nod before immersing herself back into her book.

»»-¤-««


	2. II: Queen of Wands

»»-¤-««

II: **Queen of Wands  
**

He didn't know why he cared so much. It was probably all bullshit anyway. A virgin born beyond the arcane? A virgin muggle? A squib who was a virgin? And what was this person supposed to do for him, after all? Was this supposed virgin supposed to murder Dumbledore for him? No, he doubted it. Was their magical love supposed to ward off all the death eaters and reconcile his father back into his life? Of course not. So why did he spend so much time and effort musing over the nonsense Trelawney had spewed?

He stood up from the black leather sofa and paced around the Slytherin Dungeons. The dark stone walls cast long shadows as Draco crossed in front of the large carved mantelpiece with its quiet, modest fire. He knew of prophecies, of course he did, his entire existence was haunted by the prophecy of the Dark Lord and Saint Potter. If it wasn't for that blasted prophecy his life would perhaps be normal again. No, he knew that prophecies carried their weight and were not to be ignored, but how could he possibly decipher the one he received just a few days ago, randomly and in the middle of the night? He hardly understood what Trelawney meant, let alone who the "virgin born beyond the arcane" was and how she would "help him find respite." And even if he did, didn't the prophecy end in either success or utter failure?

He sighed and fell back into the black leather sofa, pulling a pile of books in front of him. He didn't even know where to start looking. _Foretelling the Future: A Seer's Guide to Tomorrow_? Or _Seeing Your Stars: Finding Love In the Celestial_? Was the Table of Contents supposed to tell him how to interpret nonsense? He pushed the books to the floor in frustration. He had looked through them countless times already.

He should have just asked Granger when he had the chance. Somehow, she knew how to read books and find exactly what she was looking for. He had no idea how she was so skilled with obtaining information no matter how elusive. He rested his head in his hands, shutting his eyes for a mere moment. It had been a long time since he slept, and even longer since he had a restful night of deep sleep. His bones ached, his temple throbbed, and he felt the nagging hunger of a man who had not felt affection in years. _It doesn't matter_ , he told himself, _I won't live long enough to feel pain much longer_. The reality of his task made itself known, weighing on him like a stack of bricks on his chest. He felt nausea creep up before he opened his eyes and made a deliberate effort to inhale slowly and exhale steadily, hoping he wouldn't be sick. Things were going all wrong, and it was beyond his control. The necklace his aunt Bellatrix had sent him had not reached Dumbledore, and the idiot Katie Bell ended up becoming cursed instead. _Perfect_ , he thought with sarcasm, _that's all I need - Dumbledore becoming aware that he's a target_.

After a few deep, slow breaths his vision came back into focus and he felt his nerves relax. He reached down to collect the books he had thrown, and upon reaching for a large leather-bound tome, one of the words caught his gaze and caused him to freeze.

"What?" he muttered to himself, "The twins, the crab, the lion, the virgin, the scales, the scorpion... The virgin?" How had he not seen it before? He skipped to the end of the book to check the index, where he saw the words 'Virgo, the Virgin'. Was this what she meant?

Before he thought any further, he snapped the book shut and shook his head. It was drivel, complete drivel. He was chasing nonsense when he had real, imminent tasks that he had to complete otherwise his entire world would crumble. He would die, his family would die, everything his father had worked for would be lost to the wrath of the Dark Lord.

It was time for bed. It was time to sleep and not think of any of this stargazing rubbish anymore.

»»-¤-««

Hermione stared at her feet. Small, messy circles had developed near her heels as her tears dripped off her chin and crashed onto the floor. She sniffled, alerting the enchanted canaries who swarmed up and took flight around the empty classroom. With a swish of her wand, Hermione conjured another canary which formed before her eyes. With a subtle, almost insignificant tap of her wand the bird chirped into life. At least amidst her sorrow, she was able to create something beautiful, Hermione realized. How had she found herself at this point, all alone in an empty classroom while her fellow Gryffindors chanted and cheered the Quidditch team for their victory?

The lot of them made Hermione's blood boil, though there was one person in particular she was infuriated with. A flash of vivid red hair swept in Hermione's thoughts before she shook her head, attempting to empty her mind of it's contents. It wasn't as though she loved him or anything, she knew that. But there was a part of her that always assumed something might happen between them; after all, he seemed so keen on being her date for Slughorn's party. Ron had been acting odd since that, though, almost resentful. _Who cares?_ she asked herself, _I don't need him._

Then why did she feel as though a weight had sunk at the pit of her stomach? Rage began to swell inside her as she pictured it again: Ron, moments after they'd won the Quidditch match, snogging - no - groping Lavender Brown. Lavender Brown, of all people! That ditzy, useless, silly girl. It wasn't until another tear had dripped off her cheek before she realized how warm her face felt. Hermione reached to wipe a tear against her warm, reddened cheek. She exhaled, her rage subsiding as she identified the emotion she had been feeling all along. Her pride, that infamous Gryffindor pride, had been wounded. It was humiliation that hurt Hermione the most, not the potential loss of Ronald Weasley as a romantic prospect.

Hermione knew that she wasn't a child anymore. Though she hadn't thought of herself as the type for frivolity, Hermione recognized that things had changed for her. Perhaps it was fifth year when it started, when she began to feel aware of her own physical presence. Though her male peers continued to pester her, as always, for homework help, Hermione had noticed that their gaze would linger beats longer than before and for the first time boys were eager to pair with her in Transfiguration, despite knowing full-well that they would be transfigured at their own detriment. Despite this, Hermione felt embarrassed of being spurned for the average, under-achieving Lavender Brown.

The birds jumped, startled, as the heavy door screeched. Hermione attempted to wipe her face of any emotional evidence and turned to object to any intrusion before she found herself before her raven haired, confused friend.

"I don't want to talk," Hermione muttered quietly. Poor Harry, she thought, always caught in the middle without any idea of what's occurring around him. His presence grounded her, and she felt her embarrassment washing away piece by piece. He sat beside her, his arm draped across her shoulder as he held her and allowed her to cry. She had just begun to feel a bit better when the large door croaked again, this time revealing the only person in the world Hermione did not want to see.

 _What a snot_ , she thought, watching Ron enter the classroom and engage in conversation with Harry - only Harry, as if she wasn't there, as if she did not exist to him. That intense, wounded pride roared inside her as she stood up quickly; her fingers instinctively gripped her wand and her wrist lifted to point to the lanky, ginger teen before her. In an instant, and with a look of sincere fear in Ron's eyes, the birds which had been floating peacefully above them moments ago made a bee-line toward him. With each diving bird he jumped and howled with pain, a puff of feathers exploding as they struck him. She didn't give him a chance to recover before she pushed past him and through the door, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She walked and walked as far as she could away from that silly boy.

Her legs were leading her, but her mind was still muddy with thought. Before she realized it, a rush of cold air whipped across her like an ocean wave. She saw only a dark horizon. It took a moment for her to realize that she had walked all the way to the front of the castle. The air was crisp and almost stinging, but it felt good against her hot skin. Whatever she did, she did not want to go back inside, anywhere near _him_. In the distance, Hermione noticed the warm, familiar, and inviting glow of Hagrid's hut. She moved toward it, distancing herself from the castle and its inhabitants with each step.

»»-¤-««

Draco Malfoy felt extremely lucky. Not because he had been able to procure an almost consumable dose of Felix Felicis, though he was hopeful that he would have a perfect batch soon enough, but because it was finally a full moon. After everything he'd read, he knew that the only time to guarantee oddity and restlessness was on the full moon.

His legs were swift, moving him across the Hogwarts grounds quickly before he was shrouded in the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest. He pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation which conjured a wispy blue orb that slithered out of the tip of his wand. The orb floated forward, and Draco followed, ducking under tree branches and stepping over three inch tall spiders and spiky knarls. The Forbidden Forest was a wild place; though it was only a short walk away from a thriving castle, the forest was brimming with creatures as if civilization did not exist nearby. Animals roamed and consumed each other without any fear of him. Draco followed the orb through various trees, hearing sounds from all angles but without any real fear of danger; he seldom felt anything these days.

He nearly ran into a tree before the orb stopped right before him, sputtered, and dissolved into thin air. Draco looked up and what he saw made him breathless. It was as if he was in a painting. The moon was clear over the horizon, illuminating a lush pasture while a small meadow streamed ahead, the sound of water flowing between rocks lulling him into tranquility. He exhaled, nearly fainting from the calm. He felt lulled by the waters, drawn to them. Draco's limbs moved without his knowledge, guided forward toward the stream before the sound of hooves rushing at him startled him and caused him to stumble backwards, tripping over a tree root.

"What are you doing here?" As Draco shuffled back onto his feet, he saw the majestic, tall centaur towering before him. It was fortunate, Draco realized, that the centaur was alone.

"I'm here to speak with you," Draco's voice carried a clear confidence, as if unaware that the massive creature before him could kill him in an instant.

"Foolish boy, do you know where you are? It is a dangerous time for the forest; the spiders are restless and the moon is full."

"Yes, I know that," he said, dismissively, "I need your help deciphering a prophecy. I _know_ you can help me."

The centaur raised an eyebrow skeptically. Though the centaur was much taller than Draco, he was of smaller stature compared to his brethren. The centaur had deep bronze hair that reached the small of his back, his eyes looked like they were made of amethyst as they sparked under the moonlight. His body, that of a horse, was an ash blond and Draco noticed several scars along his side. He was beautiful, but as most ethereal beautiful creatures are, he was quite intimidating. Though Draco had some experience with centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, he knew that he put himself in significant danger by attempting to involve a centaur in his business. They were proud, calculated, and logical creatures but they had no emotional depth for human suffering.

"We do not meddle in your wizard affairs, I'm afraid I cannot help you," the centaur said, turning away.

"You - You must know," Draco spoke slowly, "You know that everything is going to change soon." The centaur stopped and peered back at Draco. "You know that there will be war, that horrible things will happen - not just to wizards but to everyone."

"I had hoped that I was wrong," he turned, "the stars have told me much, and the darkest of days are upon us." The centaur peered at Draco curiously, "though there is a glimmer of hope."

"That's why I'm here," Draco responded, "I received a prophecy that I can make things better, that I can prevent the - the death of a great wizard." He didn't know if he should have said that, whether the centaurs reported to Dumbledore, or whether he was even safe enough to make it out of the Forbidden Forest alive, but it didn't matter anymore. Draco sighed deeply, his shoulders heaving as his breath released in a white mist. "I don't know what to do. I need your help, a seer told me that I must complete a dark deed, but that I - well, I suppose that I can be saved by the love..." he sighed, he couldn't believe he even had to utter the words, "by the love of a virgin? A virgin born 'beyond the arcane', or something, I'm not entirely sure. Something about being star-crossed - and something about finding each other or hating each other. Basically everything will go to shit if I don't figure this out."

The centaur had turned to face Draco again and was gazing at him, no - gazing _into_ him. Draco stared back, unsure of what to do. He suddenly felt very heavy, as if he was glued to the ground under the stare of this centaur. It felt like an eternity before the centaur spoke.

"Star-crossed, you said."

"Yes," Draco nodded. "I think that's what she said."

The centaur bowed his head to the side, his leg tapping onto the dirt floor in contemplation.

"Then you must look to the stars," the centaur said, "fate will reveal its face to you." Draco's eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

"What does that mean?" Draco asked, indignantly, irritation creeping into his tone. "I don't know how to bloody look to the stars, that's why I came to ask you! I don't know what the hell fate's face will look like!"

"Your time is not here, though it will be very shortly. You must face a great trial," the centaur said, slowly moving over the meadow and away from Draco, "one you have never known before. And when your time comes, you must live with both eyes open. Although you are shrouded in darkness, you may only ask to lift the shroud. I'm sorry," he paused, bowing his head with a glimmer of pain in his eyes, "that is all I am permitted to say."

As the words sunk into Draco's brain, the flicker of annoyance that had been burning in the pit of his stomach suddenly erupted into full rage. Was that all he would get? What good was the centaur if he wasn't going to help him decipher the blasted prophecy, but rather provide more elusive riddles he'd have to solve?

"I need more! I need more information, I don't know what the bloody hell to do with that!" Draco's voice rose with every word as his fist clenched at his sides.

"You must keep quiet," the centaur muttered, "you will alert the others, and there is no safety here for you."

"Oh, I'll alert the others, will I? Perhaps _they_ can help!" As soon as the words left Draco's lips, the dirt beneath Draco's feet rumbled and the sound of galloping hooves grew louder. There were three in total before him now, and reality struck Draco like a harsh jolt. He was not safe here.

"What is this, Cadus?" another centaur asked before the centaur who had spoken to Draco turned away.

As the centaurs spoke in soft murmurs, Draco's insitincts kicked in and he seized the moment. In an instant, he began to run through the trees. A moment had hardly passed before he heard the sound of rushing hooves striking the floor behind him, and the slick sound of a bow string being pulled. Within a second, Draco stumbled forward, the burning sensation piercing his leg. In an attempt to catch his falling weight, Draco outstretched his arms and fell forward with a thud. His forehead collided directly with an imposing tree root which had twisted and grown above the ground. Before he knew it, darkness engulfed him.

»»-¤-««

It felt like ages had passed when Draco awoke. He felt dazed, distant. Was he dead? Is this what death was like? Dark, cold, damp and... dreamy? He blinked, attempting to adjust his vision before the blurry image of soft, brown curls slowly came into focus.

"Wha - what's happening?" Draco muttered. He attempted to blink, but the daze provide difficult to discard. The head snapped up with a gasp, and the face of Hermione Granger emerged into his view. She was still blurry, though it looked almost as though a ring of light glowed around her.

"You scared me!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were up."

"Well, I'm up," Draco stated hoarsely as he attempted to pull himself up onto his elbows. Drip, drip, drip, the sound of trickling water hitting the cold floor sounded like thunder to Draco's aching head. Afar he could see the outlines of trees, but they were sheltered under cold stone. Perhaps in a cave, Draco surmised. How did they get there?

"No, don't do that," she urged, pressing her hand onto his chest as she guided him to lay back down.

"I'm almost done healing your leg. I'm sorry, I should have done that sooner but I spent some of my time crafting a Calming Draught for you. I -" she huffed, flustered, looking back down on his leg, "I thought you might need it after being dragged off and nearly killed by those centaurs. It took quite a bit of convincing to get them to not kill you!" She admonished, "But they recognized me from, well you wouldn't know, but I had a run-in with them last year."

"You concocted a draught for me in the Forbidden Forest," he paused, disbelieving, "after fighting off centaurs?"

"Well, I didn't exactly 'fight' them, just spoke with them, _humbly_ ," Hermione said, her lips pursing a bit as she gave him a brief look. Hermione pointed her wand at Draco's leg, which was now almost entirely healed except for some scratches on his calf. "And it wasn't a fully matured Calming Draught," she continued, "that takes sixty days. I just combined some herbs: shrivelfig, lavender, hellebore. The ingredients are rather common in this forest -"

Hermione was cut off by the sound of hoarse laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked alarmed. Draco was shaking, clutching his sides. Hermione wondered if perhaps she messed up the draught, perhaps it wasn't safe to produce a temporary dose of it. "Are you alright?" Her tone was steady with concern. She had her wand pointed at him, contemplating any possible spell to knock him out in the event he was experiencing a dangerous side effect to the experimental elixir.

Noticing her wand, Draco lifted his hand and waved it away as his laughter died down.

"I'm fine," he said, a grin still plastered on his face as he continued chuckling. He reached to pull his hair back out of his eyes before he grimaced and hissed with pain at the sore bump on his forehead. Hermione looked up, her expression of alarm unchanging.

"Ouch, I didn't notice that one," she said, cupping his chin and angling his face down in order to get a good look at his forehead where a small gash had split on his eyebrow ridge and the area appeared bruised and swollen. "I'll get to it soon. Why are you still laughing?" Her tone sounded almost accusatory, as if his laughter was at her expense.

Draco yanked his head away, and leaned back with a soft chuckle, "it's just - well, you're a bit ridiculous, aren't you?"

"What?" she demanded, the grip on her wand tightening until her knuckles turned white. " _Ridiculous_?"

"You saved me from centaurs, you - what - dragged me into a cave? You healed my wounds, and you crafted a Calming Draught all before I woke up? And it's still dark out so you likely only had a few hours. That's absurd, Granger." Draco Malfoy had a way of making Hermione wonder whether he was paying her a shining compliment or cruel criticism. She scowled at him.

"Well, if you'd rather I'd have left you, I can drag you back out!"

"No, no," he spoke, an earnest smile still playing at his lips, "It's good, Granger. I'm lucky it was you that found me." His words hung in the air, playing on repeat in her head. "You saved my life." Hermione looked at him, and she could see his piercing gray eyes staring at her. He looked so serious, experiencing a moment of lucidity in spite of the calming elixir that coursed through him. "Merlin, could you imagine if Crabbe or Goyle had found me? We'd all be dead." Draco began to laugh again. Perhaps the calming draught was working after all, Hermione thought to herself, she had never seen him so relaxed before.

"Well I didn't drag you, I levitated you. But, you're welcome," she said with a curt nod, looking away to veil the blush that had developed in her cheeks. She declined to mention that the calming draught was provided as a precautionary measure; she didn't know whether he would attack her and attempt to flee if he woke up in a dark cave with her huddled over his body. This way, he would at least feel calm enough to not care of his circumstances, even if she was doing him a favor by tending to his wounds.

She had become very aware of the fact that it was Draco Malfoy's skin that she was touching, her hand clutching his left leg as she healed the shallow cuts. She had already treated the deep gash that was caused by the centaur's arrow, and with a swift stroke of her wand, the scratches on his skin disappeared.

Draco stared up at the ceiling of the cave where ragged rocks loomed overhead. The spirited sounds of the forest outside soothed him, and the soft, rhythmic exhale of Granger's breathing made him feel euphoric, as if he was one with the world. It had been so long since he felt peace, and although this was artificial, caused by a potion, he was grateful for the sensation. He noticed her now, working in quiet concentration as if it was her mission to help him. She didn't owe him anything; if she left him there to die, he knew he would have deserved it after being so cruel to her for so many years.

"You may want to pay Madam Pomfrey a visit," Hermione said, snapping Draco out of his thoughts, "I think I healed most of your superficial wounds, but you were struck pretty deep with the arrow and I am not a healer, I just did what I could to stop the bleeding and patch the wounds."

"Can I sit up now?" Draco asked with amusement. Hermione nodded and took his hand, helping to sit up. Draco assessed his leg by moving his ankle around and bending his knee toward his body. "It's perfect, thank you." She leaned forward, her gaze focused on the swelling of his forehead now.

"Here, let me -" she lifted her wand, but before she could complete her sentence, Draco grabbed her wrist and held it in place.

"No," he said firmly. Hermione looked at him perplexed, the familiar intensity of his features returning as the calming draught slowly lifted its veil. "Please don't," his tone was softer this time, "my forehead will heal soon. You shouldn't have helped me with my leg either but..." his words drifted, and Hermione felt entranced by his severity. Shouldn't have helped him? What should she have done then, let him die? As if in response, Draco sighed and nodded, "I appreciate what you did, Granger. This," he gently touched the darkening bruise on the ridge of his brow "I don't know, it just doesn't feel right to walk away from tonight completely unscathed." His shoulders were hunched forward, as though resigned to his fate of burdening guilt.

Hermione softly pulled her wrist, which he realized he still had in his grasp. Apologetically he released her and awkwardly swept his hair back away from his face.

"What were you doing out there, anyway?" She asked gently, softening the tension between them. She had been sitting on that question all night long. She'd seen him speaking with the centaur but the entire conversation seemed so confusing without proper context and she wasn't exactly sure if she heard everything correctly. He had seemed so serious during their conversation, and made the foolish mistake to lash out at a centaur. She was glad he wasn't killed, though he certainly came close enough to death.

"I was just having a chat," he said, his tone returning to its familiar aloof coolness. Hermione rolled her eyes and he chuckled softly under his breath at his own absurd excuse for an answer. "Well what were you doing out here in the middle of the night all by yourself?" he responded.

Hermione's gaze darkened as she remembered what had initially brought her to the forest. She remembered Ron kissing Lavender and the callous way he had brushed her off.

"I was just…" she mumbled, the events of that evening flashing in her mind. "Oh, I saw you! As I was leaving Hagrid's, I, er, I followed you. Well, I didn't know it was _you_ ," she scrambled, "to be honest I likely wouldn't have followed _you_ into the Forbidden Forest if I knew it _was_ you, but I thought you were a student out of bed looking for trouble."

"And I was, wasn't I?" Draco said, a smirk playing on his lips. He caught her gaze and held it, perhaps a beat or two longer than expected, which caused her to look away. In the pale moonlight, he could see her cheeks grow warm as she responded.

"Well, yes," she said, "You were. You _are._ " She bit her lip attempting to stifle a smile. "We should head back, though, I have classes in the morning and we still have to sneak back in without being spotted by Filch." Even Prefects were liable for detention if they were caught out at this hour. "Let's stand you up and see if it hurts to walk."

»»-¤-««

AN:

Any idea what the chapter names are from?

How are you enjoying the story thus far?

Leave a review and tell me what you think!

Happy Halloween, loves.

\- Syren


	3. III: The Moon

»»-¤-««

III: **The Moon**

"And then there was the time that I tried out for the Falmouth Falcons, you should have seen it, I blocked nearly all of the shots but then Basil Horton nearly drove the quaffle in with me. It was their mistake to not take me on as keeper - they nearly won the League Cup, but I could have made that happen for them."

Cormac McLaggen was driving Hermione batty.

The more he spoke, the faster she would drink her Butterbeer hoping that it would dullen her senses. It was as if Cormac didn't even realize that she was standing there, completely uninterested in learning of his 1001 Quidditch tricks. She scanned the crowd, seeing some of her classmates and professors awkwardly socialize under the tinsel covered decor. _Where is Harry?_ she thought, hoping that he would somehow manage to pry Cormac away from her enough for her to escape.

"You're quite lucky I'm here tonight," Cormac continued, "I nearly dropped out of Hogwarts last year, but my father wouldn't hear of it. I told him my talents were being wasted every year that I wasn't playing professional Quidditch…" Hermione tuned him out. Although he was in every sense of the word 'eye candy' he was just as equally self-absorbed, uncouth, and unable to take a hint.

"Cormac, Cor-Cormac," she said, having to repeat herself to get him to stop talking, "Could you get me a drink, please, I have to use the loo." He looked a bit startled, as if he didn't realize she had been standing there.

"Oh, sure," he said, his hand patting her on her backside as she gasped with a jump, briskly walking away from him.

As soon as he was out of range, she made her way to the most secluded place she could find: the balcony. Slipping behind the sheer curtains, she pressed her back against the cold stone wall and reveled in the quiet. She ran her hands impulsively over herself, smoothing out her dress. She wore a thin periwinkle gown made of silk, fitting her form and flowing elegantly to her ankles. She felt so very _feminine_. It was a shame that her appearance was being wasted on the oaf McLaggen. She had even spent half an hour perfecting her hair into flowing waves that draped at her shoulders. She shrugged, at least word would get back to Ron that she was over him and she was looking pretty doing it.

Slughorn's office was blessed with a stunning view. She could see the lake, over the Forbidden Forest, even to the edges of the grounds toward Hagrid's Hut. Her gaze lingered over the tall, thick trees of the Forest and it made her remember that night. _I wonder how he's doing,_ Hermione thought, _I wonder_ what _he's doing, and what he was up to that night in the Forest._

There had been a lot of rumors that revolved around Draco Malfoy that year. That he was a Death Eater, that he was behind the malicious cursed item that harmed Katie Bell, that he was up to no good at all. Hermione didn't know if she believed it, after all she had watched Malfoy grow up from a spoiled little boy to the cold, distant man he was now. As a child he was full of himself because he was taught to be full of himself; it's easy to be a villain if you're born into the Dark Arts. But a Death Eater at sixteen? Let alone a Death Eater who was capable of severely harming someone? No, she didn't think he had it in him.

"Harry!" she whispered to herself, having spotted the raven haired head that she recognized very well. Finally, the party was starting to take a turn for the better as she made her way toward Harry, Luna, and Professor Trelawney. Luna and Professor Trelawney appeared to converse very comfortably with one another, which Hermione was grateful for.

"Just don't let him find me, please, I cannot take another moment of him," Hermione pleaded to Harry who nodded supportively.

"Of course, Hermione, though it's your fault you invited him in the first place."

"It was either him or Zacharias Smith," she said, "and I think I made the wrong choice." Harry rolled his eyes at her. It wasn't her fault he didn't understand why she felt the need to make Ron pay for snogging Lavender. She couldn't exactly articulate the vindictive nature of paying back your childhood crush with misery. Though in a way the irony was not lost on her, as she was being punished for her pettiness by having to deal with Cormac, but so be it. As long as Ron was jealous, she was happy.

"Look who I found wandering in the upstairs corridor after hours," the party was interrupted by an intrusive, raspy voice. Hermione turned to see Argus Filch in his usual frayed caretaker clothing, clutching the collar of a tall, scowling handsome blond.

"I was just gatecrashing," Draco Malfoy responded as Filch released him,"I just wanted to join the party, my father has spoken very highly of you Professor Slughorn."

Hermione raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

"I wonder what he's up to," Hermione whispered to Harry. Harry had the same expression as her, of intrigue and skepticism.

"Nothing good," Harry responded. Although she didn't doubt that Draco Malfoy would attempt to gatecrash, given his recent history of suspicious behavior, she was doubtful that it was the end of the story. Draco looked as tired as ever, his skin was paler and gaunt, and the bags under his eyes made him look much older. She couldn't help but acknowledge that he had grown up quite a bit, but she didn't have a chance to think about it much longer, having seen Cormac moving in her direction.

"Oh no, here he comes. Bye Harry!" she said, ducking out of crowd and out of the party.

»»-¤-««

Hermione found solace outside of the party, in the quiet halls of the Hogwarts castle. She had been curled up in the window sill, sitting with her potions book splayed in her lap. She always liked to keep emergency reading material with her, and was thankful she took the time to enchant her elegant clutch to house several of her textbooks that evening.

 _Add porcupine quills, stir four times anti-clockwise, add a sprig of peppermint, add sopophorous beans…_

She repeated the steps to herself, attempting to memorize them, but all she was managing to do was to doze off. She sighed and stood up, tucking the book back into her bag, regretting having drank several Butterbeers. _Well, if Harry manages to produce another potion better than me, I suppose it'll be my fault,_ she thought. She had begun to walk down the hall, making a turn toward the staircases when sheer force stopped her from moving forward. She collided into something hard, and her belongings fell to the floor.

"What the -" she heard a voice say, slowly understanding that it was a tall man she had just walked into, and not an invisible wall. Her body was still connected tightly with the man in front of her, and he had her clutched by the arms. "Granger?"

"Malfoy?" she knew him by his voice first before she looked up to see him, his gray gaze was unreadable. He stepped back, but his hands continued to hold her by her arms.

"Are you following me?" he asked, searching, "Again?"

"Of course not, Malfoy, I don't spend my free time following you down empty corridors -" she said defensively, "why would I even do that?"

Malfoy shrugged and slowly lowered his hands, his palms running slowly over her arms before disconnecting and dropping at his sides. The moment felt like ages to Hermione, who was painfully aware of his touch on her skin.

"I don't pretend to understand women, let alone Gryffindor women who date Cormac McLaggen…" Hermione glared at him, _how dare he have the audacity to comment on who I'm dating!_

"Excuse me, _Malfoy_ , but I don't know how that's any of your business. And actually, I am not dating Cormac McLaggen, I just -" she paused, unsure of how to verbalize her affiliation with the brute, "I didn't want to ask anyone else."

"Good," Draco said with a nod, his brows were knit and his gaze lowered, revealing nothing. He appeared irritated, but he held such a strong hold on his emotions that it frustrated her, especially after having seen him in a deliriously satisfied state under the Calming Draught. He appeared to be back to his cold, closed-off self. "You could do a lot better than Cormac McLaggen."

The comment stunned her. Draco leaned forward and reached to pick up her beaded clutch. He took her elbow in his hand and placed the short handle of the purse around her wrist before stepping back. It felt as though a knot was forming inside Hermione's belly. However, before she had a moment to react, or to digest her own emotions, the shrill, raspy sound of the Hogwarts caretaker rang through the hallway.

"Well, well, well," Argus Filch said, sauntering down the hallway toward them, "I warned you, Mr. Malfoy, that if I saw you again wandering the corridors at night, you'd regret it! And look at that, you're not alone. Ms. Granger, having a midnight romp with Mr. Malfoy, are you?"

Hermione gaped as Draco sighed.

"Detention!" he exclaimed with excitement, "The both of you! Tomorrow night," his mouth twisted into a wicked smile, "in the dungeons." Filch giggled to himself as he walked away, "Oh, what a delightful Christmas it will be!"

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed, burying his face in his hands as he rubbed his eyes, "Fantastic, perfect, just what I need."

"Well, it's your fault!" Hermione stated, the deluge of emotion dissipating as the reality of having detention sunk in. "If you didn't run into me…"

"What do you think, I positioned myself in front of you so you could just walk into me? I didn't plan this," he said irritably.

"It's fine," she sighed resigned as she moved away from him and toward the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories, "we'll just get it over with, and it'll be fine."

She believed it. Although she dreaded detention on principle, a spark of nervous excitement swelled in the pit of Hermione's stomach.

»»-¤-««

The next day felt like it dragged on. Hermione spent most of the day mulling over books in the library, preemptively preparing for future lessons in Defense the Dark Arts, knowing full well that Snape had no intention of going easy on any of them this year. She found herself tapping her quill against the desk until the feathers frayed, and she would often bounce her leg impatiently as the day crawled on. This was unsual for Hermione, who appreciated the opportunity to lose herself in her books for hours on end. She just felt anxious, or perhaps anticipatory, and without a doubt nervous at having to see Malfoy again. _He's just so different this year, I can't figure out what it is,_ Hermione thought. He seemed more aloof, in his own world, but he had lost of some the arrogant self-absorption that was a Malfoy trademark. She couldn't decide whether she liked the change. It didn't matter anyhow, she was just glad that she would be able to ask him more about his odd behavior of late.

It took her a few minutes to realize that she had been re-reading the same sentence about Dried Billywig Stings six times before she snapped the book shut and stood up, leaving the library to head to dinner.

It was an awkward affair. Hermione had been sitting in her usual spot, having arrived early to dinner, where Harry joined her soon after.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, serving herself a spoonful of potatoes, "why do you ask?"

"You've had a rough week, haven't you? What with Ron snoggi- er, what with your disagreement with Ron, and I heard you've got detention with Malfoy tonight which sounds like hell."

She glanced up at him, an invasive blush forming on her cheeks.

"It's fine," she said dismissively, to which Harry shot her a quizzical look. "Who cares about Ron, Harry, he's been rude to me for the last month and he's decided that he'd rather spend all of his time with Lavender Brown than either of us, so I'm doing myself a favor and moving on immediately. As for detention, I don't quite know how you heard about that, but it's fine, I could use the time scrubbing toilets - or whatever it is that Filch wants us to do - to think and plan the Runes essay that's due next week."

Harry nodded slowly, "You're stronger than I give you credit for, Hermione."

She couldn't help but smile at his words. He was a supportive friend; despite the fact that Harry always had a full plate in life - both with the challenges of being a Hogwart's student, but also the slight dilemma of being 'The Chosen One' - Hermione was appreciative that he took the time to be there for her even when he would have preferred that she and Ron ultimately reconciled.

As if their conversation summoned him, Ronald Weasley strode in to the Great Hall with Lavender Brown clinging to his arm. Hermione took it as her cue to leave, but before she could slither out of her seat he had spotted Harry and had made his way to sit across from them.

"Hermione," Ron said indifferently. "Heya Harry, how was," he lowered his tone to a whisper, "meeting with Dumbledore?"

Hermione had managed to tune him out enough to enjoy her glass of pumpkin fizz when a small squeaking sound caught her attention. She looked around for the source of it, but couldn't determine where it came from until she felt something nipping at her ankle. She gasped and yanked at it, pulling it up into view. At this point, her reaction had caught the attention of those around her and she heard a few laughs when she realized what she was holding was an small rabbit made entirely out of paper. It was animated and lively, attempting to nip gently at her hand when she placed it on her lap and turned it over, noticing that the rabbit had writing on it.

"That from your boyfriend McLaggen?" Ron asked derisively. Hermione did not dignify him with an answer or acknowledgment as she pet the spine of the rabbit and the structure of the paper creature loosened, revealing the note that it had hidden. In thin cursive handwriting, the deconstructed rabbit read:

 _Filch wants us to meet him_

 _near the Dungeon Hall at 8pm._

 _-DM_

"Well, what is it?" Harry said, looking at her expectantly.

"Nothing, just - just a prank," Hermione said, shoving the letter in her robe pocket. She didn't think she would have lied to Harry if he was the only one listening, but Ron did not deserve to know anything about her life until he learned to treat her with some respect.

»»-¤-««


	4. IV: The High Priestess

»»-¤-««

IV: **The High Priestess**

Hermione always seemed to forget how cold it was in the dungeons at night. She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to be in Slytherin if it meant having to navigate the cold stone floors and empty, creepy corridors of the depths below Hogwarts. She pulled her robe tight around her body to contain her body heat as she made her way through the dungeon hallway, the sounds of her steps reverberating throughout the corridor.

Silver blond hair and dark robes came into sight as Hermione spotted Draco Malfoy leaning against the cold wall, twirling his wand around his fingers.

"So you got my message," he said as she approached.

"I did," she said, a small smile on her lips at the thought of his enchanted courier. She noticed Filch lingering next to him and looked down at her feet, attempting to stifle her smile as the old man leered at her.

"It's about time you got here, Miss Granger!" Filch announced, turning to walk down the corridor and toward the basement.

"I'm seven minutes early," Hermione whispered under her breath.

"We've got quite the treat for you two tonight," Filch said, stopping at a door and pushing it ajar. "Hogwarts," he said, pushing the door open a bit more to which Mrs. Norris sauntered in and quickly disappeared in the dark room, "has got a real spider problem. And it's your job to fix it, right? Mrs. Norris and I have managed to trap them all in the basement, where they continue to mate and grow. You're to stun them and put them in the crates - you could even kill them - I don't care, just get rid of the nasty creatures."

Draco and Hermione traded a look of disgust and dread.

"Although it'd be better if you didn't kill 'em," Filch said, snapping his fingers to summon Mrs. Norris out of the room, "Yer beloved Professer Rubeus Hagrid has made his desires clear about whether or not it's 'humane' to kill the litt'l buggers," he spat with sarcasm, "so we will be transporting them back to the Forbidden Forest where they belong, understood?"

"Sure," Draco said and Hermione nodded.

"Though if you ask me," Argus Filch continued, as he stepped away from the door, "we should keep the spiders and use them in detention! Lock the first years up in a room full of the creepy crawly creatures and we'll see if anyone gets detention again," he cackled to himself. "Anyway," he looked at the bewildered duo before him, "you are not allowed to leave until every last spider has been caught." They nodded reluctantly in response.

As soon as Filch had walked away, Draco looked at Hermione and placed a hand on the door handle.

"Are you ready?" he said, waiting for a response as she grimaced.

"I suppose so," she muttered. It wasn't the first time Hermione had to deal with a spider problem, but she'd never admit that the furry arachnids were ever a pleasant problem to have.

As they walked into the room, Hermione understood the severity of the problem. Spiders of all sizes, from the size of a knut to the size of a cauldron, were scurrying and scuttling around. Some had been hanging from the ceiling, and some were resting in the corner. She didn't know whether it was dangerous to be there, but it was certainly unpleasant. The room itself was not very large, though it appeared to be a basement where many items of magical and non-magical value were stored. There were boxes, parcels, chairs, odds and ends spattered throughout the space, and the room itself was dimly lit by floating lanterns.

"Oh no," she said to herself as her eyes focused on a particularly disgusting large arachnid that hung from the ceiling, weaving a web. She hardly heard as Draco closed the door behind him and assessed the situation for himself.

"Nasty," he muttered, pulling out his wand from a back pocket. "Stupefy!" he shouted as a red beam of light swept past Hermione's ear. She turned to see where it had landed, and observed a spider the size of a nightstand shriveling, stunned, merely feet away from her. Draco crossed confidently to pick it up by one of its furry legs and hurl it into the crate.

The first twenty minutes of their detention was spent in silence, with the exception of the pressured "stupefy!" shouting that was occurring when one of them spotted a spider. Hermione had begun to feel a bit less repulsed by the activity and had increased her focus on getting the work over and done with. Within twenty minutes, they had cleared the room of the particularly large spiders and were now focused on the small to medium spiders that were more adept at hiding in the nooks and crannies of the storage space.

A bead of sweat trickled down Hermione's forehead and she wiped it with the back of her hand. She leaned against the stone wall, catching her breath as her pulse slowly returned to a normal pace from the physical exertion of chasing after the crawling arachnids. She assessed the room, taking note of the few moving shadows and barely hidden fuzzy appendages that lingered beneath the furniture. Her gaze eventually wandered to the tall, active young man that continued to render the spiders immobile. His long hair perpetually fell before his eyes and Hermione noticed that the bruise he had sustained the evening in the forest had all but healed completely. He moved deftly, his lithe frame which previously appeared weak and malnourished revealed slender muscles as he hoisted one of the creatures and tossed it effortlessly into a large container which was brimming with other stunned arachnids.

"Why are you picking them up?" Hermione asked, curiously. As if he had forgotten she was there, Draco looked at her startled and then smiled sheepishly at his jumpiness.

"What d'you mean?" he asked, "that's what we're supposed to do: stun the spider and then put them in the boxes."

"Yes, but I've been levitating them to the boxes, so I don't have to touch them." Draco stared at her as if she had just introduced the concept of magic to him. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"That's brilliant, ugh I could have avoided touching those disgusting things! Levitate them, brilliant." Hermione smiled to herself, looking around to find the next spider to stun but her gaze unconsciously redirected to Draco Malfoy who looked so different than usual.

"Malfoy," she spoke gently, "why are you dressed like that?" It was silly that she hadn't noticed before, but Draco Malfoy was adorned in anything but the usual Prefect attire. Though the colors he wore were consistent with the Slytherin House; Draco Malfoy wore fitted black jeans, a heather gray v-neck shirt, and heavy black boots. If Hermione hadn't known him, she would have mistaken him for a muggle.

He looked down at his outfit. "Like what?"

"Like a muggle," she said, perplexed by the sight of him, "why aren't you in your school uniform?"

"Well, it's detention time, Granger. And after all, I expected we'd be scrubbing melted cauldrons, or polishing chalkboards, or whatever it is that Filch might've made us do, and this is more comfortable than a thick robe. Aren't you warm in that?"

She was, she had been sweating through her white blouse, Gryffindor vest, and thick wool robe. Several times Hermione had considered taking her robe off, but the mere idea that a spider may potentially take shelter in her hung robe made Hermione think twice.

"Besides," he continued with a shrug, "I live in the dungeons, so it's not like I'll have to walk far looking like this."

"Hmm," she murmured contemplatively, tugging at her own robes, now entirely aware of how heavily it sat on her body, "I thought you hate everything having to do with muggles."

Draco scoffed. "These are from Hogsmeade, Granger," he said, his fingers pinching the bottom of his shirt as he pulled it illustratively, an extra inch of his bare chest becoming apparent to Hermione as the v-neck widened with his pull. She glanced down, looking fervently for another spider. "Besides," he continued, under his breath, "I don't even know what I hate anymore."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she continued to distract herself while looking for a hiding spider, unsure of what to make of his appearance and attitude.

"Well, it suits you," she mumbled softly, though sincerely. A half smile formed on his lips. "How much longer do you think this will take us?"

He sighed, placing a hand on his hips as he looked around. "The bad news is, I have no idea. The good news is," he reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a flask, deftly unscrewing it, "that I have something to help pass the time." He brought it to his lips for a hearty swig. Draco then walked over and offered the flask to her.

"Oh, I really shouldn't," she said, shaking her head. He rolled his eyes, anticipating that response from her.

"Would you rather be doing this detention, which you know you don't deserve, sober or happy?" She eyed him skeptically, "You don't have to drink it if you don't want to," he said, pulling the flask back, "but think about it."

"Fine," Hermione said as she took the flask reluctantly and lifted it to her face to peer at the liquid. As she inhaled, the scent of warmth and spices filled her head.

"Mmmmmm that smells like Christmas!" she spoke, excitedly. The scent reminded her of everything she loved about going home in the winter: egg nog, hot cocoa with cinnamon sticks, a warm crackling fireplace.

"And how could you deny Christmas?" Draco responded with a sly smirk, a toying glint sparkling in his eye.

She gave him a playful glare, brought the flask to her lips and took a modest sip. She felt the liquid contents run down and warm her throat immediately, the taste of cinnamon and spices coating her tongue and heating her insides.

"This is delicious!" she said, taking another, larger swig.

"Only the best," he replied, quietly crossing the room with his wand at the ready to stun another spider, "it's from my father's reserves; I figured he won't be needing it where he is."

Hermione glanced at him, pity forming in her chest for the man in front of her. Lucius Malfoy definitely deserved to be in Azkaban prison, but she also recognized how hard it must be for Draco, who idolized his father, to know that Lucius was likely being subjected to a horrible life in Azkaban. _Maybe Draco finally has a chance to be a better person,_ Hermione thought, _with his father being far away and unable to negatively influence him._ It was a hopeful thought, but he did seem to be different since last year.

Hermione took another sip of the firewhiskey and handed it back to Draco.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said softly. He shook his head dismissively.

"There's no need for that," he spoke firmly as he effortlessly stunned a spider in the distance, "you don't need to be polite and nice to me, Granger. We both know you hate my father and everything he stands for. Granted, he hates you and everything you stand for as well..." his words drifted as he lifted the flask to his lips and took a long, deep gulp of the burning liquid which left a delightful sting at the pit of his stomach. Silence lingered as Draco wandered around the room looking for spiders that preferred to stay in dark corners. Hermione reached to unbutton her robe and slipped out of it, hanging it near one of the lanterns, after which she unbuttoned her wool Gryffindor cardigan to reveal a thin white button-down blouse. The buzz of the firewhiskey had warmed up her body and she appreciated the cool air of the dungeon hitting her bare arms.

"How's your leg?" she asked, attempting to divert the tension between them, before stunning a three-inch spider that had crawled under one of the basement parcels.

"It feels much better, thank you," Draco answered, "I really might have died if you weren't there."

"Well it's a good thing I was there, then," she murmured, "Say, why were you there in the first place? I don't think you ever told me."

"You wouldn't believe me if I did, Granger," he chuckled, the entire ordeal of the prophecy became more and more ludicrous of an idea as time passed on. "It doesn't matter anyway, nothing happened except that I pissed off some centaurs and ended up keeping you up all night to tend my wounds. I'm surprised Potter and Weasley haven't pestered me about it yet, maybe they're losing their edge."

"Oh I didn't tell them," she said as he peered at her curiously. "They would probably take it upon themselves to investigate your suspicious behavior - not that I'd blame them, really..." she smiled with amusement imagining their reactions to the fact that she helped Draco Malfoy survive in the forest. "Besides, Harry has enough going on as it is, and Ron..." Well, she wasn't exactly on the best terms with Ron, and he was not privy to anything having to do with her at the moment. "It doesn't matter. They don't need to know."

Draco nodded. He was grateful that she hadn't told anyone about their meeting in the Forbidden Forest. Draco had enough stressors to deal with, and he didn't need another Gryffindor meddling in his business, though he somehow didn't seem to mind Granger's prying.

"But if you insist on keeping your secrets to yourself, perhaps I'll have to slip some Veritaserum into your fancy firewhiskey," Hermione said with a playful smile as a stunned spider hung floating in the air toward the crates in the corner.

"You'll have to find my stores first," Malfoy responded, matching her smile. "Would you like more?" He handed the half-full flask back to her and she accepted politely. Upon her next swig of the flask, Hermione let the liquid sit on her tongue for a moment, allowing the flavor of the smokey cinnamon, warm vanilla, and bitter alcohol settle on her taste buds before the fluid crawled down her throat and settled in her belly. He watched as she stood still, indulging in the sensory pleasure that the flavor brought her. Her simplistic joy reminded him of a child, but her sheer beauty ensured him that she had developed into a woman gracefully. He cleared his throat, brushing his intrusive thoughts aside in order to get back to the task at hand.

"I really must get you to write down the name of this Firewhiskey," she spoke, her voice a bit raspier after the drink, "Harry got me a bottle of Firewhiskey for my birthday, but this one is clearly much more delicious. It probably costs a fortune."

Draco shrugged, unsure of the cost. He had no use of knowing how much things cost when the Malfoy family had funds to spare.

"Well, when is your birthday?" he asked idly, crossing the room.

"Why? You're going to get me something?" she smiled, cheekily, "September 19th. I'm a Virgo, 'the Virgin' they say," she said, casually, attempting to recall her course on Astrology, "not exactly sure what it's supposed to mean except I apparently like my room to be exceptionally neat - though doesn't everyone?" Draco's ears perked and his body froze upon her words, though Hermione continued on. "Perhaps virgins are known for their impeccable cleanliness in Divination, but I don't understand how the stars can decide who I am."

The rest of Hermione's words lay on deaf ears, as only one word lingered in Draco's mind. _It can't be,_ he thought to himself. _Is that what I've been looking for? The Virgin... Virgo, the Virgin?_ _No, but that's a load of bullocks... isn't it?_ Draco remembered the terminology from his lessons in Divination, and kicked himself for disregarding the books on astrology that were piled near his bed. He considered dismissing the idea entirely, brushing it aside as useless information. After all, it was all likely meaningless, divination drivel. But, he realized, wouldn't divination drivel be exactly the sort of thing Trelawney would use to describe what he needed in the prophecy? Was "The Virgin" actually a symbol for... for _Granger_? _No,_ he thought firmly. _That's insane. What has this got to do with her? She can't help me with any of this stuff._ He tried to imagine how she could possibly help him with his task, as if the fierce Gryffindor lioness would ever harm a hair on Dumbledore's head, and here was Draco plotting the Headmaster's untimely demise. No, that's insane.

And yet...

Draco felt a nagging pull in his chest toward her. He looked across the room at her as she was carefully maneuvering her body to continue her search. Had something happened between them? He couldn't remember the last time, if ever, he and Granger had a conversation that didn't include spitting insults at one another. He had wished for her death at one point, when he was admittedly spoiled rotten and ignorant of the world's atrocities. The thought of her death made him nauseous now. The thought of _any_ death made him nauseous. What had become of him? Tasked with the single most important mission of his life, to serve the Dark Lord, and here he was standing there, staring at the bushy brown-haired girl, wondering if she was the answer to his prophecies.

 _You could do worse_ , a small, peevish voice spoke in his mind. It was true, he knew. Granger had definitely grown into a force to be reckoned with. Draco felt odd, perhaps a bit queasy. Six years of petty hate was melting away, and he finally saw her for who she was to everyone else: a dignified woman.

That was not all Draco saw. Towering behind her, crawling up a large box, was a particularly large and angry looking spider making its way meticulously toward Hermione from across the room. Malfoy's limbs moved instinctively toward it. On his way, he yanked Hermione by the elbow and pulled her behind him, drawing his wand with his other hand.

"Stupefy! Shit -" he had missed and the spider was gaining speed. Draco continued to step backwards, attempting to get a good shot at the massive arachnid whose large fangs were now in full view.

"Where is it?" she said, looking around to spot the spider as it had begun crawling up behind a cabinet.

"Get behind me, it's angry," Draco ordered and pulled her back behind him. Before it reared its head back out behind the cabinet and began to double its effort to attack them, Draco spotted it and shouted, "STUPEFY!" as a blue light successfully stuck the spider and it fell to the ground with a thud.

"That," Hermione said, a look of sheer disgust plastered on her face, "is a humongous spider."

The arachnid appeared to be a significant one, as the remainder of the spiders that had been hidden under boxes, in crevices, and below bookshelves began to scatter and shuffle their way out toward the closed door. Hermione and Draco rushed to stun the remaining spiders before they were able to escape and find another room to settle in. As they had begun to store the bodies of the stunned spiders away, Hermione could feel the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the rush of danger but she felt giddy.

"This has to have been the most disgusting detenion I've ever had to do," she said, "but it's been fun."

Draco looked at her with a small smile before dropping another spider into its designated shipping container.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked before closing the last box.

"I feel," she paused, thinking, "I feel quite happy."

"Oh?" he said, smirking softly, "You're not drunk are you, Granger?"

Hermione shook her head. She'd been drunk once or twice before, but this was not like those times. She felt a warm glow in her torso, and as if her cares had been erased and she had found simple contentment in the moment.

"Granger," Draco said quietly and carefully as he approached her, "you look like the spider queen."

She blinked at him with confusion.

"You are covered in cobwebs," he said with a chuckle. "Here," he murmured as he reached up to her hair and pinched a few strands of spiderweb from her curls. She didn't know how she had developed a collection of the silk webs when he appeared to be pristine. She watched him gently peel the web out of her hair, the look of concentration on his face illuminating his handsome features as his brows furrowed and he bit his lower lip. Hermione exhaled shakily, which seemed to catch his attention. Their gaze met, and he could smell the warm scent of cinnamon from her breath.

"There's one more," he said softly, a slight smirk forming on the corner of his lips, "but I want you to know I'm not trying to get fresh with you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, attempting to hide a small smile at his brazenness when his hands moved toward her chest and he peeled a thick clump of cobweb out from near her collarbone, his fingers barely grazing the skin at the bottom of her throat.

"How do I know you're not trying 'to get fresh' with me?" Hermione asked expectantly, though with a hint of amusement.

This caught Malfoy off-guard for a moment, and the challenge of her tone did something to him. They were standing quite close to one another, Draco realized. His pulse quickened, and a sense of nervous excitement filled him. He glanced down at her. This time her gaze held his. Her ivory skin was softened with a slight pinkness in her cheeks and nose, her eyes were wide and alert, but a playful pursing of her lips indicated that she was toying with him, like a cat with a helpless mouse. Except Draco was not one to back down from a challenge, as innocent as it may be.

"Well, Granger," he said, playing along, his voice low and nearly inaudible which forced her to listen intently, "if I was attempting to seduce you," he smirked and ran two fingers lightly through her hair. He leaned into her, his lips hovering above her ear as a raw shiver ran down her spine, "I would have done more than just pick cobwebs from your hair." A smile formed on the corner of Hermione's lips as she attempted not to laugh at his line, but he could see subtle goosebumps raise from the flesh of her arms.

"Oh really?" she whispered.

"Yes," he responded simply. He ran his palm over her right arm and Hermione felt the weight of his touch on her. A part of her didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her feel like her entire body was tingling, and yet her curious nature wondered how far he may go. "Your heart's beating quite fast," he stated. Of course it was, though she noticed that the pulse throbbing in the base of his throat was beating hard and fast too. "Are you scared?" he asked, the ghost of a smirk on the corner of his lips. _The gall of him!_ , she thought. Was _she_ scared? Of what?

"Of you?" Hermione scoffed, though her breath was shaky and her muscles tense. "Of course not," she whispered, his face inching dangerously close to her. "What would you have done, then?" she challenged, "If you were to do more than 'pick cobwebs from my hair?'"

He did not respond right away, but Hermione studied his features attentively. Draco's gaze lingered down from her eyes to settle on her lips. She could see the wheels spinning in his head.

"Do it, then," her words voiced a challenge, which took him aback. Hermione Granger was stubborn, proud, and not afraid to call his bluff. Any ordinary young man would lose his cool, swallow his pride, and walk away with his tail tucked between his legs too afraid to rise to the challenge of her ferocity. Fortunately for her, Draco Malfoy was not an ordinary young man. With each passing second, he could feel her defenses crumble.

Draco stepped into the small space between them and Hermione gasped as he pressed against her, their hips connecting. Hermione exhaled shakily, all the bravery fading as quickly as it came. He reached up to run his hands from the top of her arms down, slowly and sensually dragging his nails down her elbows over her arms and stopping at her wrists where he held them in place with one hand. Instinctively she squirmed, to which he tightened his grip and prevented her from moving.

Her face felt hot. Her muscles tensed. A part of her wanted to run away in fear of her body's reactions. But most of her wanted to press into him, melt into his warmth and give into all of it.

With his free hand, Draco cupped her face gently. He placed a thumb on the center of her chin and lifted her head up to face him. Hermione realized that she had been avoiding his gaze out of nervousness and as he forced her to look up, shivers ran down her spine. His features showed serenity, his lips were parted and his brows relaxed, but his gaze was intense and piercing.

He dipped his head down, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she prepared herself for what was to come. Her eyelids fell shut, her lips parted for him, and she leaned into him. His lips hovered over hers, and she could feel his hot breath against her mouth, the shadow of his kiss waiting to land on her lips.

And then she felt... nothing.

"Don't," he whispered against her, "dare me, Granger."

And then he let her go. She blinked, attempting to understand. As he stepped back and released his grip, she could feel the blood rush back to her wrists where he had held her. Though Hermione also felt the warmth rush of blood in her face as the invasive feeling of anger grew inside of her.

"I knew it!" she gasped, still dazed from what had just happened. He stood before her, his arms crossed at his chest as he watched her. "I knew you were just bluffing! You were never going to-"

Before Hermione had a chance to finish her words, his lips stifled her speech with a kiss. She squeaked with surprise, and her tense muscles quickly softened as he pulled her into him. Hermione felt warm, from the anger, from arousal, from his touch. His hands pressed into the small of her back, pulling her in closer to him. It was as though his touch had cocooned her into a dizzying, warm spell. She found her arms wrapping instinctively around his shoulders and pressed into the kiss.

Then suddenly, to Hermione's dismay he pulled back again, breaking the kiss. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip as her eyelids fluttered open to peer at him.

"Breathe," he whispered to her, and Hermione realized that she had hardly taken a breath since the kiss. She exhaled slowly, attempting to smooth the shaky breath. "Is this alright?" his tender words caused the knot in her stomach to tighten as she smiled softly.

It was Hermione now who took the initiative to shut him up. She reached up and planted a warm, soft kiss on his lips. If he had any reason for concern, which she believed he did not, she wanted to convey her approval with a kiss.

Upon breaking apart, Draco looked down at the girl before him, his mind spinning as he attempted to understand what had just occurred. His body screamed at him to continue touching her, reaching for her, exploring her. His mind, the killjoy that it was, told him to slow down. What was he even doing, kissing Hermione Granger?

She gazed back at him, a dreaminess glazed in her eyes, her lips puffy, pink, and inviting. She had not removed her arms from around his neck, and her body had pressed tightly into his. Her chest heaved with each breath, and the scent of cinnamon intoxicated and overwhelmed his senses. It was becoming apparent to Draco that she held a bewitching power over his body, and he was fighting every ounce in him to not give in to her.

"Fuck it all," he whispered, dipping his head to fill in the space between them. Their lips connected. This time, Hermione noticed he held nothing back. His lips parted as hers followed, and he deepened the kiss, bringing them closer. It felt like sparks were igniting between the two, their bodies melding tight together. His hand cupped the back of her neck and his body pressed tightly against her own, urgently. Hermione had never been kissed like this; she could feel his desire pour into her, she could feel all of the energy and the emotion that he kept stored deep within him, transcribing itself entirely into passion. It made her feel like she was going to be consumed by him.

Hermione couldn't help it. Perhaps it was the kiss itself, perhaps it was the fact that she could feel just how aroused he was as he pressed into her, or perhaps it was the fact that she decided to relinquish all inhibition to Draco Malfoy. Whatever it was, Hermione couldn't help but moan against his lips. The sound of her soft moan dissolving into the kiss caused him to tighten around her. Hermione could have sworn she heard a low growl in response to her, but the trance was broken. He had to pull away, despite every inch of him yearning for her.

Hermione exhaled softly, staring perplexedly at him as Draco Malfoy pulled away from the kiss and took a step backward. He held her gently at her shoulders, and his eyes seem to search hers for any indication of a reaction from her.

"Miss Granger," he breathed, attempting to straighten himself, "I believe it's time for bed."

Hermione looked dazed and entranced, but a blush had formed in her cheeks as realization dawned on her that she wanted more, and he instinctively reached up to run his thumb over her warm cheek, running along her lower lip. When he pulled his hand away, she swallowed and cleared her throat attempting to lift the fog from her eyes. "I don't know if I can walk straight just yet," she said with embarrassment.

He chuckled softly, with relief, and reached forward to press a firm kiss to her forehead.

"Is it alright," Draco asked, softly, "if I walk you there?" A brief look of alarm flashed in her eyes, the prospect of being discovered in the Hogwarts castle late in the evening with Draco Malfoy terrified her - what would people think? "Just to the moving staircase," he assured, "nothing will happen."

She considered it a moment. What was the worst that could happen? _People could find out you snogged Draco Malfoy,_ a voice mused in her head. There was also a part of her that wanted to prolong the evening as much as she could. This part of her, which confused Hermione, didn't want to leave him. Hermione nodded her consent, "Yes, that will be alright. Thank you, D-Malfoy."

Saying his name felt like a foreign language. She hadn't even begun to think about the fact that she just kissed _Draco fucking Malfoy_ , childhood nemesis, pureblood supremicist, and all around prat - well he used to be, at least. She couldn't allow herself to think about it yet, she was too busy _feeling_ \- feeling pleasure, feeling confusion, feeling a bit dizzy with desire.

They did not run into anyone else on their way to the moving staircase, and when Hermione peered over to him she saw that his usual hard, distant visage was back. It was his eyes that gave it away; those warm, burning embers that peered down at her were now cold and stoney. She wondered how he could turn it on and off like that, one moment gently kissing her forehead with emotion pouring out of him, the next minute completely aloof. Much to her internal protest, though likely to keep their evening affair a secret, he didn't touch her anymore that night.

When she turned to head up the stairs, Malfoy felt himself aching to take her back to his common room and keep her completely to himself.

»»-¤-««

AN:

Hello darlings, please review to let me know what you are looking forward to most!

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and finally adding some spice.

Happy Thanksgiving!

\- Syren


	5. V: Seven of Cups

»»-¤-««

V: **Seven of Cups**

 _It was a clear spring morning over the rolling hills where a young woman was bent over, picking flowers and laying them intricately in her basket. He watched her from afar in his familiar shadows. She was exactly what he wanted, she was his contrary and his complementary. Swiftly, without a second thought he moved in and clutched her. She didn't have the opportunity to cry out before he had her in his arms and brought her down, down to the depths of the earth leaving the hills scattered with flowers of every hue. The bright blue sky gave way to dark, grey mist. The sounds of chirping birds quickly melted into the aching groans of the souls surrounding him. He resented himself for having to bring her there, but this was his home and his dominion; it was everything he knew and was born for._

 _She looked so small and frightened. A part of him wanted to feel pity and to release her back to the open air, the earth above, but he knew that he needed her. It was only her, nothing else would suffice. He took her innocence, of her mind, of her body, and he left her vastly aware of the darkness that she'd been blissfully ignorant of. If she only knew the powers she could wield if she yielded to him, if she allowed him to make her his queen._

 _"Please, let me go," she'd urge, to which he would turn away from her. No, he wanted to say, you're mine now. Nothing and no one will have you. He felt his heart swell with remorse, the heart that had not felt anything in years, his heart that was made to never feel in the dark sorrowful domain. "Please," she would beg. It was her eyes that hurt him the most; those large, forlorn brown eyes filled with tears. What joy could he have at the cost of her sorrow?_

Draco Malfoy woke with a start. Satin bedsheets were moist with his sweat, and his labored breathing took a moment before it returned to normal. Despite having had this dream for the third time that week, it wasn't an easy one to become accustomed to. He thought perhaps he had read too much mythology before bed that clouded his mind and inspired his imagination, but there was something familiar about the dream. The eyes, warm and sad, of the girl reminded him of someone he had tried to push to the back of his psyche.

But forgetting Hermione Granger proved a challenging task. A few weeks had passed since their last encounter together in the dungeons and the thought of Hermione plagued him more than ever. It wasn't as though they had gone out of their way to avoid each other, at least Draco hoped that Hermione hadn't been avoiding him, but their schoolwork had begun to demand more and more time and Draco had reminded himself repeatedly to focus on his task at hand. Dumbledore had to die, it was his only mission now, and Hermione was only a distraction. Despite his multiple efforts, somehow the cursed necklace and poisoned mead that his aunt had sent him never got to their proper destination, and time was growing short. He was sick to his stomach thinking about it.

But thinking about her felt entirely different. He would often sit in class thinking about the way her hair smelled, like warm vanilla and violets. It was as if all of his cares, his doubts about his mission, and his fears about the future were dissipated when he could think of her and imagine her skin pressing against his. Draco rolled over onto his stomach, the cold silk satin sheets hitting his bare chest as he murred into his pillow, his arousal growing as he continued to think of her. He imagined himself close to her again, his hand caressing the hot flesh of her belly, hearing her moans, wondering what she tasted like. The fierce Gryffindor princess, the potential answer to his prophecy.

But doubt rang in the back of his head, reminding him that his life may be short-lived. If he fails the Dark Lord's mission, then he will no doubt be killed; if he succeeds in killing Dumbledore, then Granger will want nothing to do with him. Their romance really did seem ill-fated. _What about the prophecy?_ the lone optimistic voice in him asked. Whether the prophecy was real or not, Draco had no idea how he could use it to his advantage. He didn't even know if Hermione would want to see him again, after his ardent display of affection. _What if she didn't even like it?_ A knot formed at the bottom of his stomach at the idea that he had somehow violated her.

 _Well,_ he thought, _I'll just have to find out._

»»-¤-««

Hermione's knuckles had turned white from clenching her fists impatiently. It was lucky that Professor McGonagall had spotted her during breakfast and let her and Ginny know that Ron had been sent to the Hospital Wing due to a poisoning, but the nature of the poisoning remained a mystery. Hermione didn't know how to behave, she could hardly contain herself. She just wanted to know if he was going to be okay. She needed him to be okay, the guilt was eating her up inside.

She didn't care if he wanted to be with Lavender anymore, whatever romantic feelings Hermione felt for Ron had dissipated the night she saw him kiss Lavender, and Hermione felt comfort in that. But the guilt made her want to throw up. She didn't know if it was because he was laying in a hospital bed and she couldn't do anything to save him, if it was because she had effortlessly distanced herself from him, or if it was because she had begun to feel a growing infatuation for Ron's childhood enemy. Regardless of it all, Hermione just wanted to go inside and make sure he was okay.

Hermione gasped as the door opened, hoping that she would finally be able to see Ron but her disappointment was apparent as Harry walked out and the door shut behind him.

"Tell us everything," Ginny demanded. Hermione inspected Harry's features to determine whether she should worry.

"He'll be fine," Harry eased, "at least that's what Madame Pomfrey said." Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief. Harry continued to tell the pair that Ron was poisoned by mead and neither Harry nor Slughorn know how it happened. "Apparently it was a gift meant for Dumbledore."

Hermione furrowed her brows. Another item that was meant to go to Dumbledore that was lethally dangerous? Before she was able to speculate about the source of the mead, Madame Pomfrey came bustling through the doors and urged the three students in.

"You're all being so loud, the sick can barely rest!" she said with bravado as Ginny rolled her eyes and the three made their way to Ron's bed. Hermione reached out to grab one of Ron's hands, which felt warm as if he had been struck with a fever. _Better hot than cold,_ she thought and squeezed his hand.

"I think it's Malfoy," Harry whispered, determination written in his features. "I think he's up to something, and he's the only one with the connections to do this."

Hermione stared at him, her brows furrowed and her cheeks growing hot at the sound of his name. " _Malfoy_? You think _he's_ capable of something like this? Trust me, he's not."

"What makes you so sure? He's practically a death eater! Maybe he has to do some kind of initiation to join, and these are his attempts at taking down Hogwarts," Harry responded in a rushed whisper, "And if not him, then who?"

Hermione paused a moment, flinching slightly at the notion that Draco Malfoy could potentially be a real Death Eater. _He didn't feel like a Death Eater to me_ , she thought, _he was soft, dominant and assertive, yes, but caring more than anything_. She looked away, the guilt riding back up as the thoughts of Draco's arms around her permeated her mind.

"What about Slughorn? Maybe _he's_ turned into a Death Eater? Didn't he have a close relationship with You-Know-Who?" Ginny asked curiously, "He's got loads of pictures in his office shaking hands with Riddle, I recognized his face as soon as I walked into Slughorn's office."

Harry contemplated as he watched Ron's tired, sleeping face.

"I don't know if Slughorn could have done this, but I reckon Slughorn keeps a lot of secrets," said Harry, his tone and features calm and thoughtful. "Whoever did it, we need to find them and stop them."

Hermione spent the remainder of her day in the hospital wing, studying and chatting with the other Weasley's who had visited Ron. Her stomach had begun to roar with hunger as evening approached, though she struggled with the idea of leaving Ron to go eat dinner. He had stirred once or twice, but was otherwise fast asleep. Hermione did not ultimately have to make the decision herself, as Madame Pomfrey ushered the students out so that she could provide Ron with Essence of Rue and check on his recovery.

Upon entering the Great Hall, the warm, savory scents that filled her lungs reminded her of how famished she was and she began to fill her plate as soon as she sat down. Harry appeared to feel the same way as he began to gnaw on a turkey leg. It didn't matter how tumultuous their friendships were, it felt like she had lost a part of herself when she stood there worrying about Ron's well-being.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked, her stomach a bit more content with her.

"Better knowing that Ron will be okay," Harry muttered after wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "It feels odd without him."

Hermione nodded. "Incomplete," she offered.

Hermione was halfway through her dinner when she felt something tickling her ankle. The feelings of a day's dread lifted to be replaced by butterflies as she peered down at a black paper rabbit that was hopping around her feet. Harry appeared to be too immersed in his food and discussion with Ginny to notice, and Hermione took the opportunity to grab the rabbit and inspect the body. She had no idea what the message could be about; Hermione hadn't heard anything from Draco in multiple weeks. She had almost begun to believe that the whole detention was just a very vivid dream that continued to ruminate in her mind at the most inopportune moments.

On the body of the rabbit, there was a message that read,

 _Tap me with your wand to open._

 _Clever_ , Hermione thought, _it's a locked message_. She turned her body to the side, shielding the rabbit from any potential peering Gryffindors, and pulled out her wand tapping it on its paper body. Instantly, the rabbit's form fell open and a message was written in gold on the black paper. In the familiar slanted cursive, the message read:

 _Granger,_

 _I'd like to talk. If you're free tonight,_

 _meet me in the first floor girl's bathroom after dinner._

 _DM_

The location of their meeting struck Hermione as odd, as the first floor girl's bathroom was famously haunted by inarguably the most irritating ghost at Hogwarts: Moaning Myrtle, but excitement bubbled up inside ofher. Hermione quickly peered over to look at the Slytherin dining table, but she couldn't spot the blond head anywhere. She found Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, but Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be found. _Maybe he ate already,_ she thought, though she didn't think she had seen him at breakfast either. She had made a habit of looking for him, especially after their night in detention. He had all but disappeared, only showing up at a few classes and appearing preoccupied.

She felt her heart flutter with nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing him again, though instantly that heavy burden of guilt reered it's head back into her mind reminding her that Ron, her best friend, lay in the hospital wing as she plotted to see Draco in the bathroom.

 _»»-¤-««_

AN:

Hello lovelies,

Writing this fic has been so therapeutic and soothing to me,

and I am grateful that you all have been following or reviewing my work.

Please continue to give me feedback and let me know what you think; I adore reading your reviews!

I'm looking forward to the slow, budding romance between Hermione and Draco,

so don't expect too much too soon, this will definitely be a

slow, burning fire.

\- Syren Grey


	6. VI: The Fool

AN: Fanfiction's formatting is odd. You'll notice most chapters start with an off center break. Please ignore it. I can't do anything about that. Thank you! -S

VI: **The Fool**

Hermione had left dinner early enough that the usual crowds had not yet flocked to the first floor corridors, and this allowed her to easily slip into the usually-vacant Girl's Bathroom. Hermione realized that she had perhaps left a bit too early, as Draco had not yet arrived.

"Draco?" a high-pitched voice came from one of the stalls.

"No, Myrtle, it's me - Hermione Granger," Hermione said as the see-through head of a frowning girl with pig-tails poked out through one of the stall doors.

"What are you doing here? This is where Draco likes to spend time, so you'd better leave," Myrtle said, floating out toward Hermione.

"Oh?" Hermione was surprised to hear this, as she had never thought Draco to be someone tolerant of Myrtle's moaning. She walked forward toward the stalls with curiosity, as Myrtle peered at her with surprise splayed on her transparent features. "And what does Draco like to do here?" Hermione pushed open one of the stall doors to see a melted cauldron in the toilet. A brown concoction was bubbling and it smelled like molasses and burnt wood. Hermione raised an eyebrow, moving toward the next stall. She saw a similar situation, but this mixture was yellow and appeared to be glued into the cauldron. It had no smell but the closer Hermione got to it, the dizzier she became. _What is all this?_ she thought to herself. She pushed through the remaining stalls and saw other cauldrons with similar mixtures of varying scents. Based on the sights, smells, and ingredients, she deduced that the elixirs were Felix Felicis - or at least attempts at it. When she reached the last stall, she didn't see any cauldron. Instead, it appeared to be a makeshift library, and a row of what appeared to be potions and divination books were stacked in the corner.

"Granger?" a masculine, pressured voice called out.

"She's back there," Hermione heard Myrtle respond. Hermione pushed the stall door open and walked out. Upon seeing him, she felt her throat tighten with nerves. He looked like his usual self, clad in a well-tailored black suit, his hair haphazardly pushed back but his locks falling rebelliously and gracefully to frame his face. His eyes were steely and brewing with intensity. He didn't say anything as she approached, and she stopped a few feet away from him, unsure of what to do - should she wave? Is she supposed to hug or kiss him? Should she yell at him for kissing her in the first place? No, that didn't seem right. After all, she enjoyed that evening - but did he? It felt like butterflies were trying to claw their way out of her stomach.

"How," he paused, clearing his throat, "how are you?"

"And why is she here?" Myrtle demanded, floating above as she folded her arms above her chest. Hermione felt as though she had just entered a territory battle with the ghost, fighting over Draco's attention. Draco looked irritated at the question and glared up at the floating specter.

"Actually Myrtle, could you leave? We'd like some privacy," he said sternly, to which Myrtle began to blubber and weep. She then dragged her floating feet to a stall and dove head first into a toilet. Draco then proceeded to pull out a small marble from his pocket and released it, causing it to float deftly above them. It lingered a few feet above them, growing into the size of a balloon which had a green sheen to it.

"There," he said, shifting his attention to her again, "we'll have our privacy. It will tell us if anyone or anything is here apart from us - including if -Myrtle makes a return appearance."

"I've never seen one of those," Hermione said, her gaze unwavering with curiosity, "is it new?"

"It is," he said carefully, "it's something my family has used during meetings. I think they only sell it in Knockturn Alley for now."

Hermione nodded as her focus returned back to him, and those pesky proverbial butterflies in her stomach began to take flight, increasing her nerves.

"Listen," he spoke first, "about that night in detention..."

Hermione shifted her weight from one leg to the next with a soft nod. "Yes, about that night," she responded.

"I just wanted to say-"

"Was it a prank?" Hermione cut in, looking up from her feet as their eyes met. Draco tilted his head in confusion.

"A prank?"

"Yes, Malfoy," Hermione responded matter-of-factly, "did you do that as a prank to mess with me? Play with my mind or brag to your friends about 'what you did to Hermione Granger'?"

Draco ran his hand lazily through his hair as he spoke, "don't be ridiculous, Granger."

"I'm being _ridiculous,_ am I?" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms before her chest.

"Calm down," Draco spoke sternly, "yes, that is ridiculous. What I mean to say is that I did not kiss you as a prank. And I damn well did not kiss you in order to brag to my friends about what I did to you - that's detestable. I did, however, kiss you because I wanted to. In the moment, it felt right and I don't regret it at all, even if you do."

"Oh," Hermione responded softly. They stood there in the quiet for a moment as Hermione attempted to understand what that meant to her. He wanted to kiss her. Hermione had not anticipated that. Although she hoped for it, she had prepared herself for the bad outcome, to learn that he was his usual cruel self. Learning that he embraced her out of sincerely wanting to disarmed Hermione. "I don't regret it either."

"Good, then," he replied stiffly. He seemed tense, as if he had been holding himself still, and he looked at her so intensely it made Hermione feel as though he could see through her. She stepped forward, closing the large gap between them enough for her to comfortably reach forward and touch his arm, her fingertips gently running over his forearm and toward his wrist. His hand opened to welcome hers and she entwined her fingers into his hand, breaking the tension between them enough to hear him exhale shakily. She looked up at him with a smile, grateful for his warm acceptance of her touch. The smile appeared to melt some of his icy exterior as Draco reached up with his free hand to guide her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. He ran the back of his hand over her cheek, down to her chin where he pinched it softly. The affection warmed her to the bone.

"How was your day?" he murmured, breaking the silence with a silky tone.

Perhaps he was being polite, perhaps he was attempting to start a conversation and wanted to start off with a casual topic, but his question made Hermione acutely aware of how her day had been. Like a moving train, the memories of her day played in her mind quickly, one after the other, until she remembered Ron. She remembered him laying there, helpless and sick, while she was there in secret, in the girl's lavatory, with none other than Draco Malfoy - who she had been aching to see for days.

She felt such guilt for forgetting about her friend of six years as she stole moments with his nemesis. The toll that stress, fear, and worry had taken on her were bubbling beneath her collected exterior. She was exhausted and as the emotional tidal wave came crashing down on her Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes.

She looked away to save herself some dignity, and her hand unconsciously lifted to cradle her own forehead. She exhaled shakily as tears flowed and she bit her bottom lip to keep herself from sobbing.

Draco watched as she pulled entirely away from him, and he could feel the heaviness of her emotions linger around her like a rain cloud ready to pour. Instinctively he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her toward him and pressing her face into his chest as his hand ran through her hair soothingly. Within the safe confines of his arms she allowed herself to shake with sobs, releasing the tension of the day as he held her.

"It's alright," he murmured into her hair as he continued to smooth her wild curls. He held her there, calmly and warmly cradling her against his body. Although to her he may have felt tender and soft, he held himself stiffly, aware of his body's reaction to her. There was a naturalness to the way her body fit into his, and despite her tears Draco Malfoy felt peaceful with her in his arms. When her sobs mellowed into soft sniffles, he released her and wiped a stray tear from her chin.

She looked up at him, her eyes now pink and lips puffy from having to muffle her own sobs. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I - I didn't mean to cry."

He shook his head, dismissing the apology as though it were unnecessary. "It's fine, really, Gra - Er, Hermione." The sound of her name lingered, foreign to Draco's tongue. "You had a rough day, I take it?"

Hermione nodded and with a deep exhale she looked away. "It's Ron."

Draco felt himself stiffen again. _Had she been crying about Weasley this whole time?_ The thought made a knot form in his stomach.

"What about Weasley?" Draco said, finding it difficult to hide his distaste.

"He's sick," she continued, "Harry says he's been poisoned. He's been in the hospital wing all morning."

"Who would want to poison Ronald Weasley?" he spat, jealousy bleeding into his acidic tone. _I wouldn't think him important enough for someone to waste poison on,_ he thought to himself, but kept this sentiment to himself.

Hermione shrugged, "Harry says he drank poisoned mead when they went to see Slughorn this morning, and he's been in the hospital wing since."

The words struck Draco like a freight train. Poisoned mead. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but couldn't in a million years tell her the truth. Her beloved Weasel had drank the poisoned bottle of mead that wasn't meant for him, it was meant for Dumbledore. _The greedy Slughorn must have kept the bottle to himself,_ Draco thought. _And now, fantastic, the Weasel has been struck down with poison and everything is gone to shit._

"Is he going to live?" Draco asked curiously, softening his tone. The poison that had been added to the mead was provided through the Dark Market, in Knockturn Alley. It is supposed to kill the drinker within minutes. How is it that Draco hadn't heard of Weasley's death by now, if he drank the same poison?

Hermione sniffled again and nodded. "Madame Pomfrey says he will be alright in a week." She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, "I've just been so scared, I didn't know what was going on all day, and I just found out a few hours ago."

It was his negligence that caused another innocent individual to nearly die. Although he didn't particularly care for Weasley, it was his doing that caused Hermione to sob with fear that she may lose her… friend?

The thought that Weasley could be something more to Granger made him queasy, and Draco looked around for something to distract him. He reached for a mortar and pestle which rested in one of the sinks of the bathroom and began grinding large silver Occamy eggshells. He could see Hermione's reflection in the mirror as she watched him from afar with curiosity but didn't object to his task.

He appreciated the silence as he rhythmically and mechanically ground the eggshells into a fine powder, feeling his frazzled emotions calm back to baseline as he focused on the objective at hand.

"You're grinding it too much," Hermione spoke, startling him. Draco looked up into the mirror to see that she had been standing behind him, observing closely. "You should grind it into a loose but coarse dust, otherwise the shells become too dispersed and the potion will overheat. That's why your cauldrons are melting."

"How did you know-?" as he turned around to face her, he saw that all of the restroom stall doors had been pushed in. "Ah," he said playfully, "you've been snooping."

He dumped the content of the mortar into the sink and blew the dust out, then turned to face her again. "I've been trying to figure out why the elixir hasn't been working, I thought I'd been doing something wrong but I couldn't figure out what." A grateful smile formed on his lips. "Thank you."

Hermione returned the smile and nodded, turning on her heel to walk toward the bathroom stalls.

"Where are you going?" called Draco, watching her stray away from him.

"To look for a salvageable cauldron to help you," she responded, grateful to find something that would keep her mind away from Ron. To this, Draco followed her, unsure whether any of the cauldrons that he had used were particularly safe to approach. He had experienced quite a few unsavory reactions when making these potions, and he did not want her to be another victim to a cauldron explosion.

"Er, be careful, will you?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

She chuckled dismissively and pushed open a stall, bending down to inspect the contents of the potion and the state of the pewter cauldron which appeared to be damaged beyond repair. He attempted not to stare as her skirt rose to accommodate her bend, but a glimpse of her ivory thighs peeking just above her gray knee-high socks drove Draco's mind reeling away from potions to focus on the curious and keen woman before him.

"This one wasn't stirred quickly enough when you added the Squill Bulb," she said, mostly to herself, "common mistake."

She moved toward the next stall and he leaned against the dividers behind her, allowing her to explore as she bent over again to study another cauldron.

"I don't think you'll have any luck finding a recoverable cauldron," he said behind her, "I'll have to bring another cauldron from the Potions basement after our next lesson, perhaps you can help me then."

She stood up, hands on her hips as she turned to him. "You mean the Potions lessons that you've been skipping? I thought you'd been avoiding me," she mumbled as he averted his gaze.

He had not intentionally been avoiding her, though he had been grateful that he didn't have to see her in class after their detention. He wasn't confident that he wouldn't stare at her as she stirred cauldrons and smashed beetles. The reality was that he had been spending many of his courses in the Room of Requirement, tending to a particularly significant cabinet that needed repairing, and Snape knowing all too well about his current dilemma had covered for his truancy with other professors including Slughorn.

"Although," Hermione continued, speaking mostly to herself, "I could use the practice with some of the potions after all. Felix Felicis is not an easy potion to perfect. Not to mention, Snape would have murdered me if I'd tried to take one of the cauldron's from the Potions basement… Perhaps Slughorn may be different."

Draco chuckled. "Being in Slytherin has its perks, the basements are easily accessible from our common room," he said with a smirk.

"What are you brewing these for anyway?" she asked, sweeping her hair to one side. Her normally bouncy and often unruly curls had become wild and tousled from the vapors of the various potions. Despite her clean and proper attire, a wildness about her struck Draco as he watched her approaching him.

"Doesn't everyone want liquid luck?" Draco retorted coolly. Hermione rolled her eyes in response.

"You mean to tell me you have stolen or bought at least hundreds of galleons worth of supplies in order to procure your own Felix Felicis and you don't actually have a plan to use it on anything specific? Right, sounds believable," she said, rolling her eyes, "just like you were out there in the Forbidden Forest to 'have a chat' with the centaurs, I'm sure." Despite her challenging tone and blatant accusation that he had just lied to her, Draco laughed in amusement.

"You know," he said, still chuckling at her fiery response, "you could take over the world with that brain of yours."

Hermione blinked, caught off guard, and an unexpected smile formed. "Oh really?" she responded, "and what on earth would I want to do after I have the world?"

He shrugged a shoulder and stepped toward her. His own words rang in his head as he remembered the prophecy, and her potential role in it. Amusement faded into a contemplative intensity. He reached for her hands and taking them into his, brought them together to his lips as he pressed a firm kiss on her knuckles, once on each hand. "Make it a better place, I'd imagine." As he said it, he wondered if he would fit into that world. Perhaps he was one of the things that prevented the world from being better.

The statement eluded Hermione, and she felt slight discomfort at his intense sincerity as he looked at her, but his lips on her hands and his brazen affection made her feel the electric sparks that she had once felt before running through her stomach and down her legs.

"Draco?" she spoke, softly as he brought her hands down to his chest.

"Yes, Granger?" her name slid off his tongue affectionately.

"Did you think about me?" she asked, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she averted her eyes to avoid his gaze, "Did you think about me after detention?"

He released her hands and reached up to cup her jaw, running a thumb delicately over her lower lip.

"I did," his voice was nearly a whisper now as he gently pinched her plump, pink lower lip, "every day."

Their eyes met, and Hermione felt as though her heart were audible it was beating so hard. His silver eyes betrayed his softness, a side that she had only recently discovered. As his hand slipped into her hair, she instinctively lifted her chin, offering her lips.

Hermione could feel her heart flutter as he accepted her invitation and gently pressed his lips against hers, softly and innocently as if it was their first kiss all over again. Draco softly massaged her scalp and let his fingers draw down, over the back of her neck, and lower to trace her spine. He rest his palm against the small of her back. With his lips hovering closely against hers, he whispered "I thought about doing this." His hand pressed against her back and pulled her into him, causing her to gasp as she felt a surge of warmth rush through her at the feel of his solid body.

Draco reached a hand to draw her curls away from the side of her head, revealing her soft, pale neck. "I also," Draco repeated with a whisper, bowing his head to press his lips to her ear, "thought about..." he dipped his head to press a featherlight kiss just below her jaw-line, savoring the softness of her skin against his own, "doing," his lips continued down to her neck, pressing soft kiss after kiss which ushered deep shivers to roll through Hermione. "This," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. Draco kissed his way up to her earlobe before trapping it between his lips. He sucked on it gently, and ran his teeth to graze against the soft skin. With his heavy, hot breath against Hermione's tender skin, she felt her muscles relax into him. Her flesh was sensitive and raw, as though sparks were igniting through her. His other hand had found its way back into her hair, his fingers cradling the back of her head. "I thought about you quite a bit, Granger," he murmured lustily into her ear.

Draco pulled back and looked down at the creature before him. Hermione was lost entirely in his touch. Her eyelids were heavy, her cheeks flushed and mind fuzzy, and all she felt was the tingling yearning desire for him. He brushed his lips against the pinkness of her cheeks before reaching for her lips, on which he planted a firm kiss. The hand that had been cradling the back of her head had now tightened around her hair and he tugged on it, drawing her head back, causing a jolt of pleasure to sear her and incited a deep moan, muffled within the kiss. At the sound of her moan, his hand tightened and he felt himself teetering toward the precipice between rigid control and reckless abandon. His tongue ran over her bottom lip, seeking entrance which she willingly obliged. Another helpless moan of pleasure escaped her throat and was muffled by his tongue as it pressed against hers.

As he held her there, exploring her mouth and delighting in the little reactions that she would provide with each unexpected nibble or tug, the nagging, incessant, and frightened voice of insecurity rang in the back of his mind, pulling him away from the oasis of indulgence they had built for themselves. He pulled away from her slowly, his hands moving to hold her shoulders and peel them apart as he reached to brush her wild hair away from her face, tucking it affectionately behind her ear.

"I have to ask you," he spoke deliberately, his voice a low murmur, "about Weasley." Hermione's forehead was creased in concentration as her mind attempted to wake up her body from the delirium of passion she had fallen into.

"Ron? What about Ron?" Ronald Weasley was the last person she had wanted to think about at this moment. Her body felt light, like she had been levitating the whole time, but she was quickly coming back down to earth.

"Do you like him?" Draco asked, searching her face for meaning. Hermione recognized that he looked very seriously at her, as though she had just revealed to him that she knew where to find the sorcerer's stone. She shook her head, clearing the mental fog.

"Er, romantically? Are you asking me, now, if I like Ron romantically?" she responded incredulously, "after I just kissed _you_?"

Draco looked away, though his gaze had hardened and she could feel his defenses come up like a stone wall.

"Hey!" she said, lightly tapping him on the arm, snapping his attention back onto her. "Quit that," she spoke authoritatively, "You're closing up again. Tell me why you're asking me about Ron."

He was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond to her bossy commands. He was unsure what he intended to find out by asking her, or what he even wanted to hear. If she really was the one for him, the woman of his prophecy - which he realized would be a far stretch for anyone to fulfill, let alone her - then at least she wouldn't be wrapped up in another man. At the very least, she would be solely his. He couldn't imagine who else the prophecy called for. He felt drawn to her, like magnets finding their way together by natural makeup alone, and when he was around her he felt something he hadn't felt in over a year: hope.

"Are you jealous of him?" Hermione asked, not waiting for his response, searching for a reaction in his expression. "Or do you think I'm actually in love with Ron and using you to make him jealous or something?"

Draco scowled at the prospect, the thought of being used by her to get back to him made Draco's blood boil. His pulse ran wild, and he wasn't certain whether it was from the lingering affects of arousal from moments ago or from anger at the idea of Weasley. He didn't want to imagine how degrading it would be if he was just a pawn in their lover's spat. Draco exhaled sharply in frustration and turned away from her, moving toward the mortar and pestle again, hoping to lose himself in the rhythm of grinding more eggshell, though he knew it was futile.

"Or do you think I already am in a relationship with Ron? And that I'm cheating on him with you?" she continued, her voice growing sharp and challenging as she moved toward him, her arms crossed over her chest. He ground the shell harder into the stone mortar until his knuckles grew white. "Do you think I'll run to him after this? Flee to the comfort of his arms? Or-"

"Stop." He commanded, his voice icy and harsh as it reverberated throughout the cold bathroom walls. "Stop all that now," he spoke through his gritted teeth, "I don't need to hear any of it."

Slowly he turned around to face her, the mortar and pestle forgotten as they fell to the ground with a loud thud. As he looked at her, she could see his eyes had hardened and the pulse in his throat was rapid. She felt goosebumps form on her skin at the sight of an angry Draco Malfoy.

"That's not funny," he spoke quietly, though pressured, "to suggest any of that. It's not a joke, Granger," he paused to exhale, seeing the wild-eyed face of the girl innocently observing him. He felt sorry for her, he knew she was in over her head. "I don't want to imagine any of that again, understand?" she nodded softly, cautiously stepping closer to him. "And if that is something that's happening, if you truly are in love with Weasley," he spat the name, "then you should leave _now_ , I can't for another moment imagine you with him while also craving you in my arms."

The words struck Hermione speechless. A small part of her wanted to feel upset over his intensity toward her, as if he could claim her to himself already, but the larger part of her couldn't deny the shivers that coursed through her at his intensity and his possessiveness. She had never been with a man so serious and intentional. She fully understood now why she had previously thought him to be so unpleasant - an intensity like this is easily misinterpreted as unhappy or arrogant, but in this moment, with his vigor focused on her, she couldn't help but savor it.

She watched him quietly as his gaze washed over her, she felt afraid to speak - the vocal lioness rendered speechless by the bite of the snake. After a moment he sighed and bent down to pick up the scattered mortar and pestle, tossing them carelessly back into the sink. With a swish of his wand and a soft incantation, the ground eggshell that powdered the floors disappeared in a stream into his wand before he placed the wand back into his pocket and turned back to face her. She stepped into him quietly and wrapped her arms around his torso; this caught him off-guard as his stiff muscles slowly eased at her touch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up at him, "I shouldn't have said that. I have no romantic feelings for him. He's my best friend, nothing more than that."

Draco nodded, reaching to run his fingers into her hair absent-mindedly before looking down at her to trace her forehead with his thumb.

"Am I correct in thinking you were trying to provoke me?" he asked as she pursed her lips before burying her face into his chest. This caused him to chuckle despite himself, before he playfully tugged on her hair and she rose back up.

"I don't think I fully meant to provoke you like that," she said, her tone sweet and laced with playful deception.

"Mm hmm..." he mumbled, an amused smile forming on his lips again. He pressed a small kiss to her nose.

"I didn't realize you would get that upset," she said, her gaze studying his features. He nodded contemplatively.

"I haven't felt that angry in a long time," he spoke, "I don't like the thought of you with anyone else." Hermione reached up to press her lips to his, silencing him from having to speak of it anymore. "You do odd things to me, Granger," he sighed into her lips as she pulled back.

Hermione nodded, knowing the feeling.


	7. VII: The Sun

.

»»-¤-««

VII: ** The Sun**

The sun shone brightly overhead, and Hermione basked in the relaxing rays of the warm morning. She leaned back into the wooden bench as the whirl of broomsticks and quaffles zoomed overhead. It had been nearly a week since Hermione had seen Draco, and with each day she grew more restless. A chronic sense of anxiety sat heavy on her chest as she ruminated about her elicit romance with the mysterious blond. Had she been making it up all along? Maybe he wasn't into her and she was just playing the fool... Questions bore into her mind. When Harry invited her to watch the Gryffindor's practice before classes, Hermione was grateful for the distraction. She was the only person in the Gryffindor stands, though she observed a few excited first year students that watched in awe across the field. Her Defense Against the Dark Arts book lay open on her lap and a quill dangled between her fingers as she reclined, letting the sunshine settle on her.

Suddenly a flash of red zoomed before her, close enough to cause her hair to ruffle in the wind. She was uncertain whether the redhead in question was Ron or Ginny. Ronald Weasley had, despite Hermione's best efforts at convincing him otherwise, rejoined the Quidditch team as soon as Madame Pomfrey allowed him out of the hospital. He seemed entirely recovered now, and Hermione couldn't help but hide her relief when the hospital wing doors swung open to present a healthy and well-rested Ron. She wasn't sure whether it was her imagination, but Hermione noticed his hand lingering several beats beyond their usual friendly hug as he held her against him. Quickly, though, they resumed back to their casual, playful friendship, and Hermione began to accept his relationship with Lavender. She couldn't exactly hold a grudge, considering her recent amour with a certain Slytherin.

Hermione attempted to brush the subject from her mind, growing more and more irritated at Draco's recent absence. She looked down into her book and attempted to read the sentences on the page, but her mind continued to wander as she huffed with frustration. Although it had only been several days since she had last seen him in the girl's lavatory, Hermione was under the impression that she would at least see him in their shared classes, or in the Great Hall for dinner. He had all but disappeared since their last encounter, and she was beginning to feel like she had been imagining the entire affair.

 _That'd be rich,_ she thought to herself, _perhaps I'm going insane._

The thought quickly dissipated as she buried her nose in her book and willed herself to focus on her classwork. Time passed by in a blur as she had been sixteen pages into the chapter before her focus was broken by the sounds of her name being shouted from below. She had completely missed the Gryffindor's wrap-up of the practice, and they appeared to be waving at her as they collected their belongings from the Quidditch grounds. Hermione snapped her book shut and rushed down to the pitch, meeting up with her friends.

"It's a good thing we have you to watch us practice," Ron jabbed at her sarcastically, "Merlin knows what would happen if someone got hurt."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's quiet up there, I can get a lot of studying done," she retorted, "besides, haven't you been hurt enough this month? Maybe you can try to avoid injury for once in your life."

"Right," he responded, "I'll be sure to remember that." Ron rolled his eyes at her, teasingly, and Hermione smiled in amusement at their playfulness. She had missed him.

"Hurry up, or we'll miss breakfast," Harry shouted, walking several feet ahead of them. As she nodded to acknowledge Harry's words, Hermione's eyes spotted a small creature in the grass bounding toward them and as recognition dawned on her, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"You lot go ahead," she yelled toward Harry and urged Ron forward, "I forgot my notebook up in the stands."

"D'you want me to come with you?" Ron offered, hopeful.

"And miss breakfast? Are you mad?" Hermione responded, pushing Ron's shoulder forward to urge him away, "No, thank you though, go on ahead. I'll be there soon."

Hermione turned to walk toward the Quidditch pitch, knowing full well that the little bouncing creature would follow her. Her pace slowed, allowing it to reach her, and as soon as Harry and Ron were out of sight Hermione bent down to pick up the small paper rabbit with a smile, the anxiety of potential discovery fading quickly. The brown rabbit hopped in Hermione's hand as she read the silver letters on the rabbits leg, "tap me with your wand." Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped it on the small paper animal's back; she was appreciative of Draco's precautionary spell, even if Harry and Ron had found the paper rabbit it would not open to their wands, only her own.

As she tapped it with her wand, the bouncing paper rabbit stood still and the paper body draped open revealing a small colorful cord. Upon further inspection Hermione noticed that the cord was constructed of various enchanted blossoms of different colors, woven together into a thin bracelet. Hermione gazed at the piece, gracefully turning it over in her hand as her cheeks grew warm. They appeared to be wild flowers, with white, yellow, lavender, and dusty pink petals, intricately woven together with a spell that caused them to glisten like jewels in the sun. She slipped the delicate bracelet onto her wrist and the thin stems of the flowers began to tighten and grow around her wrist, some of them bloomed as they touched her skin. She tried to recall if she had ever received a gift so beautiful. _At least,_ she thought, coming back down to Earth, _he's trying to make up for his absence._

She had almost forgotten that the deconstructed rabbit she was holding had a message written on it.

 _Thinking of you, my petal._

 _I'm planning on stealing a few cauldrons today,_

 _perhaps I can see you Friday after dinner,_

 _Same place. I'm hopeful._

 _DM_

A smile broke out on Hermione's lips as she stuffed the letter into the pocket of her cloak. Her mind whirred at the prospect of seeing him again, though a nagging sense of irritation lingered in her mind at his absence. She looked down at the bracelet that hugged her small wrist; it had now neatly grown to cover an inch of her wrist and had developed stunning blossoms and small vines, similar to the vines that adorned her wand. She pulled the sleeve of the cloak down to cover her wrist and bounded toward the castle to join her fellow Gryffindors at breakfast. Regardless of his unexcused absence, Hermione felt a sense of relief that she would see him again.

»»-¤-««

It was almost as though Draco's sweet gesture allowed Hermione's mind to relax. Breakfast was pleasant, her morning classes went smoothly, and Hermione was determined to complete her Potion's class successfully. Harry had been the star pupil in Slughorn's class, and although Hermione attempted desperately to force down any feeling of jealousy and inadequacy, her competitiveness reared its ugly head and fueled her drive to succeed. Regardless of how focused Hermione was to complete her potion and come out on top, all manner of comfort and relaxation went out the window as she, Harry, and Ron walked past the fog of fumes and vapors into their potions class where silver blond hair appeared in her field of vision.

 _What?_ she thought, _Now he decides to show up?_ Draco Malfoy had missed dozens of their shared classes, and today he decided was the day to attend class and throw her off her game. Hermione scowled to herself, though she had a difficult time denying the feeling of her heartbeat ringing in her ear, reminding her of her excitement to see him again.

Hermione's gaze scanned the room as she followed her best friends. There was only one open table, with an additional seat to house the three Gryffindors, and Hermione felt the lump in her throat swell as they sat directly in front of the quiet Slytherin. He did not move, his nose deep into a thick textbook. Hermione recognized some of the images in his book as celestial maps. _Curious,_ she thought to herself, _I didn't know he is taking Divination this year._

"Malfoy's here," Harry whispered to the two of them, knocking Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Tosser finally decided to show up to class," Ron responded with a scowl. Hermione was sure Ron spoke loud enough for Draco to hear, though if he did, Draco made no acknowledgment of it.

"Wonder what he's been up to for the past few weeks," Harry mused as Hermione attempted to ignore their remarks and turn to the page of today's lesson in her copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"Mr. Malfoy!" the booming voice of Horace Slughorn made Hermione jump, "Good to have you back to class, chap." Hermione heard Draco mumble a soft thanks. "Severus told me you'd been quite ill with the Sneezing Sickness, I'm glad you are better!" Hermione snorted in spite of herself, and attempted to pass it as a hearty cough. Ron, seeing Hermione in a coughing fit, cracked a hard pat on her back which caused her to nearly fall out of her seat from the force.

She mumbled a quiet, "thanks," and he nodded sincerely.

"You are all in for a treat today, we will be brewing the Antidote to Veritaserum!" Slughorn announced, pulling a whole potted mandrake out from behind the counter and placed it before them. "Please turn to page 168 in your textbooks. And for time's sake, let's all pair off! Go ahead and pair with someone in front or behind you; first and second rows pair together, and third and fourth rows can pair together. Let's see who can make the best antidote today!"

"I've got Goyle!" Ron whispered with disgust. It wasn't until Ron spoke that Hermione realized the implications of the seating order; she looked up to see the sterling eyes of Draco looking at her from behind his table. "It isn't bad enough that I have to work with him, but he's also rubbish at brewing potions!"

Harry nodded sympathetically and looked over his shoulder to the seats behind him. "Oh no, I'm with Romilda. And Hermione, you're with Malfoy! D'you want to trade?"

"N-no, Harry, that's fine. I'm sure Romilda won't get in your way quite as much as D-Malfoy will. Don't worry about me, I'd imagine I'll be doing most of the work," she whispered to them.

"Alright, all of you, come get your ingredients and once you've found your partners," Slughorn announced, a satisfactory smile on his portly face.

Hermione moved swiftly to obtain the ingredients of the antidote. Draco had taken the task to pick out an appropriate cauldron and had set up a work station in the back corner. With a nervous but determined exhale, Hermione made her way toward him. As she approached holding a heavy mandrake pot, he promptly took it from her and nodded firmly in formal acknowledgment.

A few minutes passed as they organized their work station and Hermione gradually became accustomed to his presence. Although she felt more than comfortable around him when they had their privacy, Hermione was wary of having to interact with him while her classmates were present, especially Harry and Ron who fortunately were currently busy with their own potions partners.

"Move it, Granger," Draco said, his tone acidic but the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he poured a small vial of Black Sea water into the cauldron.

"Just let me take care of this, Malfoy, and we won't fail," she responded, matching his icy tone. "Pass me some mandrake leaves," she instructed as he huffed.

"So bossy," he complained, tearing a few leaves off the stem and passing them to her as Hermione's hands deftly went to work dicing the leaves. He moved closer to watch her in her element when she felt his hand lightly and cautiously run over the side of her hip and gave it a little squeeze. Visible goosebumps developed on her arms at his touch and she could almost feel him smirking behind her. Her fingers, however, continued to work and she gasped as she realized she had run out of leaves to cut and nearly chopped off the tip of her finger. "Careful," Draco cooed into her ear as Hermione's eyes shot up to scan the classroom for any unwanted observers. Harry was clearly too focused with keeping Romilda's affections at bay while Ron was arguing with Goyle over which sized cauldron to use. Everyone appeared busy with their own concoctions but the fear of discovery made Hermione's heart pound.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she snapped, attempting to act as her usual combative self against her public enemy. He casually moved away from her to busy himself with crushing dried pufferfish. "I got your, er, package," Hermione whispered under her breath and Draco smiled down at the powder.

"Will you come? Friday?" he whispered back, moving closer to her to scatter the contents into their cauldron.

"I will," she murmured back and before his smile could linger enough for someone to notice, she raised her voice, "You need to stir this, quickly or it will boil over."

"Stop telling me what to do," he retorted with faux irritation. Hermione noticed the red hair snap up and blue eyes bore into her as Ron took a keen interest in their argument. Hermione knew his expression, having seen it many times throughout her life.

Hermione turned around, away from view, and pretended to search for some runespoor eggs as she whispered under her breath again.

"Be careful, Ron is watching. He probably thinks you're going to attack me, I know that protective glare anywhere." Hermione didn't need to look at Draco to know that he was glowering at the sound of Ron's name but he kept quiet, tending to the cauldron.

A few minutes passed in silence as Hermione carefully cracked three runespoor eggs and dropped the contents into the stewing cauldron. She kept a close eye on Ron, who had now gone back to arguing with Goyle over who should stir. She reached to lower the heat and bring the antidote down to a simmer when she heard the sound of a man cursing under his breath. Looking up, she saw Draco cradling his hand which appeared to be covered in red swollen welts.

"What happened?" she demanded as he showed her the hand.

"I don't know, I was picking the leaves off that plant and my hand just started to burn," he pointed to thin, long stalks with leaves that resembled mint but had spiked edges. Hermione took his hand in hers and inspected it noticing that the skin was continuing to develop small hive-like bumps.

"Draco, that's stinging nettle. You aren't supposed to handle it without gloves," she admonished. "Here, I'll get something for it."

Without another word, Hermione crossed the classroom and scoured the Potions cabinet for a silver tin of balm which she brought back to him.

"This should do it," she murmured as she applied the thick paste with her index finger and Draco watched with concern. She looked up at him as she wrapped his hand with cotton. "Haven't you ever seen nettle before? They grow all over my neighborhood," Hermione spoke softly, "though mostly near the meadow."

"No," Draco responded, "I was never the outdoors-type growing up, except for Quidditch. Besides, father always liked our garden to be pristine, he'd never tolerate the growth of any weeds or pests. You lived near a meadow?" He asked curiously.

"What's this, an injury?" the booming voice of Horace Slughorn made Hermione nearly jump out of her skin from being startled. She had almost forgotten where she was, she had been so intent on healing his hand that she forgot she was supposed to hate him.

"No, Sir," Draco responded stiffly, pointing to the plants next to him as Hermione rushed to tend to the brewing cauldron, "I just got stung by some nettle, forgot to use gloves."

Hermione could have sworn she heard Ron say, "What an idiot," but could not confirm as he had been facing away from her.

"Ah, yes, my boy it's a good thing you have Miss Granger here to cure your ailments," Slughorn proclaimed. "She is a fine young witch, especially adept at Potions, although," Slughorn paused singing her praises as he looked over at their cauldron, its contents bubbling slowly and the stench of salty sea wafting upwards, "this particular antidote has been neglected for a pinch too long, though it may be recoverable yet."

Hermione gasped, the idea of failing the potion causing her to grow into a panic as she picked up the nettle leaves with a cloth and dumped them into the cauldron, stirring furiously. The previously lethargic looking potion had sprung back to life, its color fading from black to a crystal emerald blue and the scent transforming to a less putrid essence of fresh water.

"There it is," Slughorn announced and nodded affirmatively. Hermione sighed a breath of relief as the concoction received a passing grade.

"Sorry about that," Draco muttered as Slughorn turned to walk away and Hermione began to clean up the counters.

"It's fine," she said curtly, "we passed."

They both moved toward the back corner of the classroom, placing some of the ingredients into the cupboard as Hermione took a moment to glance him over. Although he still looked tired, he looked healthier, as if color had come back to his face. She smiled to herself and reached up to place the jar of dried pufferfish to a higher shelf, her robe sleeves accomodating her reach as the colorful flowers on her bracelet came into view on her wrist.

"Thank you for the bracelet," she whispered as she touched the soft enchanted flowers on her wrist, "it's stunning."

Despite his best efforts, Draco's smile could not be hidden.

"I'm glad you liked it," he whispered, turning back around toward the workstation. With a flick of his wrist, the remaining tools began to clean themselves and levitate back to their cupboards. Draco ducked down behind the counter and Hermione noticed that he had begun shrinking large pewter cauldrons and shoving them into his book bag. She rolled her eyes, somewhat impressed at his ability to smuggle them without anyone's notice.

"Told you I'd get them," he whispered with a smirk as he shut his bag, "I've got to go. I'll see you Friday night, wear something warm." With that final instruction, he turned and left the classroom.

 _But aren't we supposed to brew potions in Myrtle's bathroom?_ she thought. _Alright then._ She was finally beginning to realize that it would be more beneficial for her to not assume anything when it comes to Draco Malfoy.

»»-¤-««


	8. VIII: King of Cups

AN: Please see the author's note at the end of this chapter.

»»-¤-««

VIII: **King of Cups**

It didn't bother Hermione one bit that Harry's Antidote to Veritaserum was awarded as the most pure. It also didn't vex her that Lavender Brown clung onto Ron's arms for the rest of the day. Nor did it upset her that Gryffindor lost the Quidditch match to Hufflepuff. Hermione had felt so unperturbed by the usual irritants that she began to feel a bit concerned for herself.

 _What if I'm ill?_ she asked herself, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look ill.

Hermione pulled her hair back away from her face and looked closely. Her skin was soft, glowy and bright. Her eyes were their normal clear, chestnut color, pupils a healthy dilation. Her hair was in its usual wild curly state. Although she hadn't been eating as much, her weight remained the same. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, absentmindedly starting a side braid near her temple.

Hermione had concluded that she was not ill. She was just happy. The kind of happy where she would catch herself humming aloud while studying in the library, causing Madame Pince to shush her audibly. The kind of happy where she would find herself dazed in class. Her grades had not changed - of course she was still the top of all her courses - except potions which Harry had been conquering of late, but she had lost the anxiety that she used to carry around with her at all times. An anxiety to succeed, to be perfect at everything. She felt more peaceful, kinder, lighter.

It was this lightness that her two best friends were not used to. Hermione was grateful that Ron had Lavender to distract him, but Harry had been on edge all year and his level of suspicion seemed to be at its highest.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" Harry asked during dinner that Friday evening, when Ron recounted their Transfiguration lesson explaining that Hermione had accidentally transfigured a shoe-box into a rabbit instead of a squirrel. Hermione had blushed and stammered at her mistake, brushing it off as mishearing the instructions, and fortunately she quickly remedied the error and received full scores. "You haven't been as..."

"Zealous," Ron offered, his mouth full of haggis.

"Sure," Harry accepted, "You seem different."

Hermione waved her hand in dismissal then helped herself to some pumpkin pasties.

"I like this new version," Ron said, squirming his shoulder as Lavender fawned over him, "She's much more mellow, hasn't yelled at me all week."

Harry chuckled while Hermione rolled her eyes, "I've just been enjoying Sixth Year is all," she said, "the lessons are more interesting."

"You mean they're bloody mad," Ron retorted, "I stayed up til two last night writing our Defense Against the Dark Arts paper! Gerroff me Lavender, my arm is falling asleep." He shrugged her off and Lavender pouted.

"Well yes, that's true, it is more difficult. I've decided I'm going to spend more time studying Potions," Hermione admitted, not entirely lying, "hopefully I can best Harry in at least one brew this year."

Harry shrugged, and Hermione was grateful that Ron decided it was time to shift the conversation toward Quidditch. Her gaze turned toward the Slytherin table, curious whether he would be missing again. She couldn't spot his silver blond hair anywhere. He's not eating dinner again, she thought to herself. As her eyes scoured the Slytherin table she did, however, accidentally meet the gaze of Pansy Parkinson who glared at her fiercely. Hermione looked away quickly and attempted to rejoin the Quidditch conversation.

Only a few moments passed when Hermione began to feel a tightness forming around her arm. Confused, she looked down to see the floral bracelet squeezing at her wrist, the blossoms morphing to a deep purple.

"What?" she murmured to herself, but quickly hid her wrist to deter any unwanted attention. Hermione excused herself from dinner, stating that she had to go study in the library; fortunately for her the boys did not question her, as it had been her favorite pastime for the last six years.

»»-¤-««

It had to be tonight. Despite his attempts in completing the Dark Lord's task, Draco had so far failed. Though he had tried to send Dumbledore the poisoned mead and the cursed necklace, his efforts had been unsuccessful. All that was left was the Vanishing Cabinet, and if he was unable to complete that task, he was sure that the Dark Lord would have him killed soon enough. There wasn't much left to lose, and the weight of his burden had been crushing him all year. He had to tell her, and he had to do it soon. Whether he died or not, Trelawney's trance had given Draco hope that perhaps his fate did not lie in the hands of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps she could do something, perhaps she was chosen for him.

He had paced the steps of the Girl's Lavatory for what felt like eternity. When will she get here? he thought, his patience growing thin. His anxiety had boiled over and he had begun to dread the evening altogether.

"What's wrong, Draco?" the shrill voice of a doting Myrtle rang in his ears.

"It's nothing," he retorted abruptly, "I just have to do something I don't think I'm ready for."

"Hmm," Myrtle responded contemplatively, "I suppose you could just not do it."

Draco looked at her, though also through her, in agitation. He muttered, "thanks Myrtle, could you leave me alone please?"

Hurt at his words, Myrtle began to spout her usual diatribe about how unappreciated she was, and how all the students kick her out of her own home. Draco did not want to listen to any of it, and he began to busy himself with the lacewing flies in the sink. It wasn't until he turned to portion the Knotgrass that Draco remembered his ingenuity. Without another thought, he reached into his shirt and pinched at a thin enchanted silver sage leaf that hung from around his neck. Hopeful that he had enchanted the accessory correctly, all he could do was simply wait.

He had attempted to busy himself again, however only a few moments passed before he heard the screech of the heavy wooden door as the blur of a curly haired brunette came into his periphery.

"There you are," Draco's voice echoed silkily, his anxiety all but dissipating in her presence. Her power was immediate; she felt like tonic to him and he could drink her in forever. As Draco finished up his preparation of the knotgrass, Hermione hung her book bag against one of the hooks in the restroom stalls. As she walked back toward him, Draco reached over and pulled her in for an embrace, cupping her chin to place a soft, welcoming kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated the warmth, dwelling peacefully in his arms.

"I wasn't sure if it would work," he murmured into her hair as he ran his hand up and down her back.

"So that _was_ you?" Hermione said, looking down at her bracelet which had now faded back to the normal pastel petals. Draco nodded.

"It's enchanted to let you know if I need you or if you need me," he said, touching her wrist, "I figured it's not fair for me to always summon you, perhaps if you want to speak with me, or if you're in danger I'll know."

Hermione stared at him in surprise, "Did you use a Protean charm?"

Draco nodded casually in response, though Hermione pulled back, a look of surprise on her face.

"Draco, that's impressive! That's a N.E.W.T. level spell, most students won't be able to cast it until well into next year," she spoke vehemently, and Draco couldn't help but smile at her vigor.

"Yes, well, I did get the memo that only Hermione Granger can learn impressive spells, but I guess I forgot about it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her lips pursing a bit. "That's snarky…" she muttered, but Draco took her hands in his and placed kisses on her palms softly, locking her wrists together while his free hand swept stray hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear gently.

"I'm only teasing," he spoke softly as Hermione's expression softened, "besides, I'm a bit upset that you didn't do what I asked."

"If you'd release me from my bondage, I'll show you that I actually did do what you asked," she responded in her notoriously bossy tone.

Draco relinquished, letting go of her hands as she pulled a small purse which hung from her side. Unclasping the pouch, she reached in and pulled out a thick woolen cloak that Draco deduced had been enchanted to fit into the purse.

"Well then, I suppose I can't be cross with you," he said as he pulled the cloak around her shoulders. "Brilliant, then, we can get going."

"Going where?" Hermione demanded, "I thought we're going to brew some potions."

"Another day," he responded, cupping her chin, "I have something I want to show you."

»»-¤-««

Despite the fact that the night was still early and gaggles of students were moving through the corridors, Draco led Hermione through the castle without much detection. It was becoming apparent to Hermione, as Draco skillfully guided Hermione through empty walkways, secret passageways, and deserted courtyards, that he was very familiar with this route. It was Hermione's gasps of surprise and soft whispers to herself that verified that the secret passageways were unknown to even the well-read witches and wizards of Hogwarts.

It wasn't until they arrived upon the bottom floor of a tall tower that Hermione recognized where they were. The smell of burning sage filled her nostrils and reminded her of the Divinations courses she had taken in her third year. The tower appeared eerily still as the rays of moonlight shone through thin slivers of window. The air felt ten degrees cooler already, but Draco did not slow down as he maneuvered up the steps.

"Why are we -" she started before Draco cut her off. The sound of hushed whispers broke his stride as he stopped in his tracks.

"Shh! I can hear someone," Draco whispered, pulling Hermione by the arm into a small alcove in the wall. He could see candles dimly illuminating a Divinations classroom several steps above. Smoke and the scent of incense began to waft through the doorway and throughout the tower. Hermione could hear it too, the deep voice of a man gently resounding through the stairway. In an attempt to squeeze them both in the limited space, Draco pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers as her torso was trapped against the cold, hard stone of the tower.

"I'm quite surprised you're here!" it was a woman's voice now, high pitched and ethereal. Draco could recognize it anywhere, he had heard the voice recite the prophecy in his mind over and over again. A shiver ran down his spine and for the first time since that night he began to feel regret. Perhaps he should not have been there, especially with Hermione Granger.

Listening intently, she stiffened when she felt Draco's hand travel down toward her hip. Hermione moved to push his hand away, shocked at his decision to get frisky with her in such a precarious situation, though she quickly realized that his hand was already gone and all he had been doing was reaching for his wand. He muttered the words to the disillusionment charm and stood still against her. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation, unable to see in the dark whether the charm had worked to camouflage the pair.

"Yes, well," came the deep, drawling voice of the man, "Albus suggested I ask you for... assistance."

"It's Snape!" Hermione whispered softly. Draco nodded in confirmation.

"And Trelawney," he informed her. Hermione looked at him as if he were crazy, and Draco agreed with her expression. What could Severus Snape and Sybil Trelawney possibly talk about? It was as if two worlds were colliding in Draco's mind.

"My dear Severus, whatever could I do for you? Would you like a cleansing of your aura? I am sensing a bit of anxious muck has gathered in your sacral chakra."

Hermione and Draco heard a heavy sigh in response, and Draco could almost see Snape rolling his eyes at Trelawney from the sound of it.

"No, Sybil, my aura is fine. I need you to tell me about this," Snape said, though the pair could not see what he was talking about. From their vantage point, they could hardly see the top of Snape's head.

"Does this date have any significance to you?" she replied, curiously.

"It may, if you tell me more about it," he said, barely masking the acidity in his tone.

"Ah, I see. You would like to know your fortune. Child's play, Severus! Come, drink this tea while I search the abyss. Here, sit, sit! Now, place your hand on the crystal ball..."

"What a load of rubbish-" Hermione whispered.

"Shh!" Draco hushed her, listening keenly on the conversation. Though outwardly he had all but contempt for Trelawney and Divination, he desperately wanted to know what she had to say and what Snape was asking about.

"Ah yes, I see it now... There is blood everywhere... Fire, and death... Grim, Severus, this will be a grim day."

"Alright," he replied, drawing out the word, "could you tell me anything more than that?"

"Peculiar, I see a flash of light. It twinkles, like the sun, in all colours. Yes, I can sense it: hope prevails. At the cost of death, of course, there will be _lots_ of death. But wait!"

Draco held his breath.

"New life. As the veil is lifted, the shroud falls. It is not the knight that saves the virgin, it is the dragon himself," she spoke in intense whispers, "do not worry, Severus, for a new day will come and new life will come of it!"

"Right," Snape responded, unenthusiastically. "So, is this the correct date?"

"Days, hours, moments elude me Severus, I do not deal with numbers - only certainty. Dates are fluid; death is inevitable."

With another deep sigh, Hermione and Draco heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps move forward.

"Thank you for the lesson, Sybil," Snape said as he moved toward the door, his figure obscuring the light from the classroom, "I will let Albus know about all the death you've predicted." The door closed behind him.

As the tall, lean figure of Severus Snape fluidly glided down the steps Draco attempted with all his might to keep from breathing and prayed to the gods that his disillusionment charm had worked enough to mask the pair hidden in the alcove. Snape, who had been breathing down Draco's neck about his daunting task, would have no sympathy or understanding for his affections for Granger. And though he knew he was being paranoid, there was something about the way Snape looked at Draco that made him feel like none of his thoughts were private. Draco closed his eyes, attempted to clear his mind, and held his breath as the figure in black passed the alcove and quickly reached the steps of the tower, disappearing into view.

Draco's mind was whirring with thoughts; he had almost forgotten that Hermione was with him at all until her body shook against him with a nervous exhale. Draco stepped back and released Hermione, her back instantly turning cold where he had stood as the night air filled the space between them.

"What on earth was that about," Hermione whispered to him admonishingly as they climbed up flights of stairs, "I don't know what I would have done if we got caught; half the school would have known about it in the morning."

"Are you embarrassed of being caught in a dark corridor with me, Granger?" Draco whispered teasingly, "It wouldn't be the first time…"

Hermione gave him a stern glance to which Draco smirked.

"We're almost there," he whispered as they continued to climb the steep, dark steps of the astronomy tower.

»»-¤-««

 **Author's Note:**

Hello my dear,

I have been thinking quite a bit about how steamy and yummy I'd like this fic to get

and I have decided to go full-ham on its intensity (which you will see soon -

it's a bit of a sexual slow-burn but it's worth it 100%).

Therefore I've reached an ethical dilemma, and have decided to take full artistic-license:

For the sake of the sexiness written in this fic, I have decided that Draco and Hermione are of the age of consent.

Wherever you live, whatever the age of consent is there, that's how old they are.

Yup, it doesn't make sense.

And it's definitely not accurate to canon,

but I chose Sixth Year because I love the environment and Draco's maturation in this year,

however since this will be an adult fanfiction, I want to emphasize that in this fic they are adults.

Alright? Okay, thanks.

Please don't be mad, this is not going to impact the story at all. Just trying to cover my own butt.

All my love,

Syren.


	9. IX: The Star

.

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IX: **The Star**

It felt like Hermione's legs were going to fall off after all of the steps they climbed. Upon reaching the final steps, they came upon a dark, intricately crafted door which Draco pushed open with ease, revealing the brilliant navy blue sky which sparkled with evening stars. The pair walked out on to the roof of the tower. The air was harsh, nipping them with a fierce crispness, though pockets of warmth blew at Hermione invitingly. Draco took her by the hand and led her forward, slowing his pace as they came upon an area where the air stood still and warmth enveloped them. Draco waved his wand in a circle around them and Hermione gasped with surprise. It was as if she had been transported to another rooftop altogether. The dark and empty roof was now glowing with a handful of enchanted candles which radiated a pleasant, lulling heat. The light did not impose on the clear dark sky as Hermione could see the horizon of Hogwarts Castle, the Forbidden Forest, and the tranquil dark tides of the Black Lake with its glistening ripples. Draco shifted in the darkness toward a table which Hermione had hardly noticed amidst it all. On the floor near the table was an array of thick emerald blankets and fluffy silver pillows strewn atop one another.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, "it's so stunning." He smiled at her and reached for a crystal decanter full of amber liquid which he began to pour into two glass goblets. "Oh look!" she spoke excitedly, pointing down toward the dark horizon, "I think you can see some of the mermaids from here. They're fascinating."

Draco nodded. "They've been a bit restless of late. You can see them swimming through the windows in the Slytherin common room." Hermione's eyes widened with fascination at his words as he handed her a glass. The smell of the familiar spicy liquid burned her senses and flung her back into memories of their detention. She lowered herself down onto the soft surface of the blankets nearby and leaned back into the pillows with a contented sigh.

"Draco," she spoke carefully, as the reality of her setting dawned on her. It felt like she was in one of the romance novels she had indulged in once or twice. Candles, liquor, starry nights, and an attentive, charismatic man. The thought of it frayed her nerves and made her a bit anxious. Noticing her sudden shift in tone, he arched an eyebrow at her. "You're not trying to," Hermione spoke each word deliberately, "seduce me, are you?"

Draco chuckled into his glass as he took another sip. "Is that what I'm doing?" he responded coyly, slipping down to sit beside her. She bit on her bottom lip, staring as he ran his index finger slowly over the mouth of his goblet in circles.

"Well if you are," her voice was stronger now, intentionally resolute in her response, "it isn't going to work. I'm not particularly seduce-able."

"Hm, yes," he responded with a soft nod. "I would have wagered that." Hermione attempted to avoid his gaze as she stared at the midnight sky; the darkness of it made her feel as if they were entirely alone, without a soul around. "And what is it that makes you think I'm the type to bring you up here in order to seduce you?"

"I've heard rumors," she attempted to respond nonchalantly.

"Oh?" he quirked a brow at her as he topped her glass off with more Firewhiskey. Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. "What rumors?"

"You know what rumors, Draco," she huffed with impatience. There was no reason for his playing the fool. Draco Malfoy had gathered quite the reputation as the Slytherin Stud within his peer group, and words only trickled down to Hermione through her heart-broken classmates.

"They're all false," he shrugged. She glanced at him, sincerity written in his features.

"What do you mean 'they're all false'? I know several girls who have attested to being hurt by you."

"They're lying, Granger." Draco's piercing gaze was set on her, intense and clear. "They wanted something from me that I didn't want to give, and their egos were bruised. They want to make me look like the bad guy, so be it."

Hermione looked down at her glass as she swirled the contents around, biting on her lower lip in thought. "So," she paused, "what, you're an innocent virgin who hasn't hurt a soul?"

He scoffed, reaching up to wave stray strands of hair out of his face. "I wouldn't say I haven't hurt a soul, obviously, I've been a bit of a nasty prat for most of my life..." he sighed, his posture stiffening as Hermione watched his movements. "And I don't love the term 'virgin'," he continued, "Gods, I prefer the word 'selective' if I had a choice."

Hermione stared at him attempting to process this newfound image of him. _Selective_ , not opportunistic, and not at all a womanizer she had thought he'd been. He sighed again at her reaction and placed two fingers under her chin to lift her jaw up, closing her mouth which had been hanging agape in stunned awe. "It's not a big deal, Granger, I promise."

"But what about all the Slytherin girls who fawn after you?" Hermione asked with sheer curiosity.

"What about them? I've barely been interested in any girls since coming to Hogwarts. They've mostly been annoying little girls to me." Draco took a deep drink out of the crystal glass and finished the contents of his cup. He hissed as the liquid burned while it trickled down his throat, the spicy alcohol leaving a sweet aftertaste in his mouth. "Mm. I forget how good this is," he murmured. As he glanced up to look at Hermione, he chuckled at her expression. Her brows had knit together and her lips were pursed as if she had been attempted to solve a difficult arithmetic question. "Does this bother you?" he asked, amusement attempting to mask the slightest tinge of concern. "I just didn't like any one, Hermione," his words weighed with sincerity now, and he reached to place his hand on hers, his fingers warm against her skin, "until now."

A smile appeared on Hermione's lips at his words, and she shook her head, curly hair bouncing as she did. "It doesn't bother me at all," she spoke softly, "I prefer it, actually. I'm just surprised is all. It isn't really how I had you pictured."

At that Draco chuckled and released her hand, reaching to grab one of the large, heavy blankets and pulled it over her. She moved her toes around under the thick green blanket, stretching her feet as they began to warm up.

"It isn't as uncommon as you'd think," Draco murmured absentmindedly, leaning back into the cushions and pillows as he stared up at the sky. "Many pureblood families are so afraid of tainting the bloodline that their children remain celibate until marriage - that is, marriage to another respectable, well-proven, pure bloodline."

"Sounds so impassionate," Hermione responded, scrunching her nose in distaste. "What about love?"

Hermione's stomach knotted a bit as Draco threw his head back and laughed, with a wide toothy grin and a carelessness she had not seen before. His hair had fallen back to bare his face and his pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She hadn't seen him so open before.

"Granger, love is a side effect to these people," he responded, still amused at the prospect of his relatives marrying merely for _love_. What a waste, they would say. What about alliances? Increasing their power and riches? Love was a distraction to them.

"And to you?" she asked curiously, joining him as she leaned back into the pillows, her body propped on one elbow to face him.

The worry-free smile on his face slowly faded. His forehead creased in concentration and a long sigh escaped his lips. Draco tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers as he spoke.

"I don't know," he whispered. Hermione wanted to reach over to him and hold him, bring that warmth and ease back into his features. "I've never really had the luxury to ask myself that."

Hermione shifted her weight and pulled herself closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she ran her fingers across his chest. A warm smile formed on his lips as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto her knuckles.

"I didn't mean for this to get so heavy," he apologized. She waved her free hand in dismissal.

"I don't mind," she responded, peering back up to the wide expanse of space. They both lay there quietly. Amid the darkness, a bright, long tail of a star appeared and glistened brightly across the black sky. She squinted as her gaze followed it before it burned out and disappeared into nothing. "Curious," she murmured.

Draco, who had been calmly watching her stare up in wonder, murmured, "hmm?"

"I didn't know there would be meteors today. The meteor shower isn't for a few weeks," she spoke softly, speaking almost to herself than to anyone else. The thought of meteors, however, reminded Draco of why he had brought her to the tower in the first place. He had entirely forgotten, having been distracted by their conversation and as usual, her presence.

"There is supposed to be a meteor shower?" Draco asked with sincere curiosity.

She nodded and relaxed her shoulders again, letting her eyes fall closed as she spoke. "A big one. I think that's why the spiders are disoriented. I heard Hagrid say that the centaurs are also driving themselves deeper into the forest than ever, which is unusual."

"Say, Granger," Draco spoke softly, attentive to his tone as to not appear overly invested in her answers, "do you know much about astronomy or divination?"

Hermione shook her head softly, her eyes still closed as the warm air and the heavy blanket over her legs soothed her into serenity. Draco frowned; he'd hoped that she would provide more information about the constellations, after all most of the words the centaurs used seem to refer to the sky. He kicked himself for not paying more attention to Astronomy when he had the chance.

"Well," Hermione spoke softly, "I got the highest scores in all my Astronomy classes, but advanced Astronomy began to coincide with Divination which I think is complete drivel. I've been taking Arithmancy since third year and it's a much better tool for foretelling the future and understanding the present."

"How does Arithmancy work?" Draco asked. He had hardly heard of the subject. Though he knew it was an elective at Hogwarts he didn't know anyone to take it willingly. Hermione stretched out her arms above her head and yawned widely before her eyes fluttered open and she lithely lifted herself to sit back up.

"I'll show you," she responded, reaching into her jacket's side pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of yellow parchment with a short quill which had been tucked between the crevices of the paper. Her emergency stash, in the event of impromptu note-taking. "Do you have a specific question?"

"Er," he responded. _Well, sure I have a specific question_ , he thought. But he could not think of a way to ask her whether she was the answer to his prophecies. Whether she was going to save his life, Dumbledore's life, the fate of the world. For a moment he pondered asking her how long he has to live, for even that was an uncertainty to Draco. "No," he replied, "Nothing comes to mind."

"Alright, then," she responded, her quill quickly moving as she scribbled on the parchment. "Sometimes, that's better." Draco watched as Hermione began to write down numbers, one at a time, as if each one had significance to her. "Hmm, okay five..." she mumbled to herself, "didn't expect that... when's your birthday?"

"5th of June, 1980," he responded, attempting to peer over her shoulder as she continued to write.

Several moments passed and Draco waited in anticipation until the sound of her quill scratching against the parchment ceased.

"Okay, so," she said, pushing the paper toward him. Draco did not understand any of it. The paper read:

4 - 9 - 1 - 3 - 6 - 4 - 1 - 3 - 6 - 6 - 7 (5)

1 - 6 - 1 - 6 (5)

4 - 9 - 3 - 4 - 3 - 6 - 7 (9)

5 - 6 - 1 - 9 - 8 (2)

"There is a lot here to dive into, but the most interesting thing here is the contrast between your character and your life. Here is your life number," Hermione pointed to the number two on the bottom of the page. "And based on this your path in life is to seek balance amidst divergence. Twos are more fulfilled and whole than others, but they are still young and learning how to compromise." She spoke quickly, with passion as her eyes were alight with excitement, "But it's interesting that your character number is a _five_. A five is imbalanced and seeks resolution - it indicates difficulty finding the right path. It requires you to change many times before you discover who you need to be - it's not an easy path to go down, but you're called to it." She paused a moment, staring at the piece of paper as she ran her finger over the numbers.

"Curious," she whispered to herself. "Your heart number is also a five, which is quite significant in this placement." She peaked up at him; his lips were pursed and his brows creased in attentive concentration. "Normally if you have a five in your character chart and a five in your heart placement it indicates serious emotional turmoil, but with the two in your life path you ultimately find resolution when you seek it. A five in your heart placement sometimes indicates fluidity and change, there are five senses to the human body, and each one is as significant as the other but they are not complete without consciousness. As long as you strive to find balance and resolution, you will find it, especially with your social number being a nine. I'm also a nine. It's the largest number in arithmancy, it indicates the end of the spiritual cycle. According to my book, _New Theory of Numerology_ , we are more likely to be aware and influenced by the mystical and spiritual arts. I hardly believed it about myself when I read it, but I'm beginning to think it's true. When you open yourself up to all possibilities, that's when you'll be able to find what makes you complete." She handed the piece of paper to him then reached to pull the blanket up above her hips. Draco stared down at it, perplexed by her words.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to a word that had been underlined: VISION

"That's your talent," Hermione said quietly, shifting herself back into the pillows, "it's the one skill you have a pure and unyielding affinity for."

He could scarcely process what she had said, but the words struck true and deep for him. She could not possibly understand the comfort her words brought him, but Draco was hesitant to let it pacify him.

"So this... stuff, this is real?" he asked slowly.

Hermione shrugged patiently. "It's by far the most accurate and empirical form of divination known to wizardkind, yes, perhaps only second to prophetic visions." _Prophetic visions, ey?_ Draco thought to himself. Lucky for him, he had now had his future read to him by two methods of highly accurate fortunate telling. Unfortunately it did not make him feel any less lost amidst it all. It may have been comforting to hear that he could eventually find balance and completion, but Draco did not know how to fend off the peril of Death Eaters threatening his life and his family before he is able to find this so-called 'inner peace'. Hermione quirked her head to the side as the man in front of her sat still, his mind whirring with thoughts. "Did any of that make sense?" she asked, to which Draco nodded immediately.

"More than you know, Granger. I had never thought of Arithmancy. I had read so many books on Divination but not once thought of Arithmancy."

"I didn't know you liked this stuff," she responded with surprise in her voice. "Hm. I'm learning quite a lot about you tonight. Now I'm curious what other juicy secrets you have..." Her words broke Draco's serious concentration and he chuckled despite himself.

"Not much," he responded, "I'm not particularly interesting."

"Oh, you liar," Hermione scoffed at him playfully.

"Well," he thought, "I suppose it's a secret that I'm actually quite good at Transfiguration."

"What?" she replied, sitting back up to look at him, "but you always get low marks."

Draco shrugged. "McGonagall is intimidating. And I hate being told what to transfigure, it ruins the creativity of it."

"Prove it then," she responded bossily, "Transfigure something."

She raised her brows expectantly, and Draco reached into his pocket with a exaggerated sigh and pulled out his wand. Swiftly he rose to stand and swished his wand around like a sword, then reached his arms out in a mock stretch. She rolled her eyes at his dramaticism.

"Right then," he exhaled, his lips curled in a smile as he pointed his wand toward the open sky. With clear words and a gentle flick of his wand, he spoke, " _Exsto Volucris!_ " Once the words were spoken, light began to emanate from his wand and glowing orbs bubbled out and appeared to float in the dark sky. Hermione's eyes widened as she watched several Glow Bugs develop out of the tip of his wand and begin to fly on their own. The insects emanated a warm yellow light and fluttered lazily in the night sky, like jellyfish in mid-air.

"That's quite something," Hermione spoke, watching the insects float around them. Draco raised a brow at her reaction.

"Oh, that isn't impressive enough for you, is it?" Draco replied, "Perhaps conjuring creatures isn't the most interesting act in the world."

"It _is_ impressive, Draco!" she responded defensively, "I mean for a sixth year that's quite advanced stuff."

Draco Malfoy placed a hand on his hip and rubbed his chin in thought. "Right," he responded, "Impressive for my year, but not quite for a talented witch like Hermione Granger. Well, fortunately I have another trick up my sleeve. Ever seen an Illusionment charm?"

"A what?" Hermione asked in confusion, the term not ringing any bells from the depths of her knowledge. "That's not a thing - do you mean the disillusionment charm?"

Draco shook his head and reached a hand out. "Come, stand up and give me your hand."

Hermione did as he said, pulling herself up onto her feet, though while bringing the blanket with her, and outstretched her hand to him. He placed the tip of his wand at the palm of her hand and Hermione stared at it intently, bewildered at his actions.

"No matter what, stay still," he instructed.

"What do you mea-" before Hermione had a chance to respond, Draco's words stifled her own.

" _Emanato sensibus_ ," he spoke the words slowly and deliberately as if each syllable had weight to it. As he spoke the words, darkness fell before Hermione. The twinkling lights of the candles, the gleaming glow of the insects, and the distant bright stars disappeared into utter black. Hermione attempted to reach out to search for something, anything, amid the empty void and she gasped softly as something squeezed her hand which was held in place.

"You're okay," he whispered, "I have you. Try to relax."

Hermione could feel the weight of her chest as her breathing became rapid. She attempted to inhale deeply, to mellow her breaths and find peace. He had her. Though where she was or what was happening to her, she had no idea.

"Listen," he instructed, "do you hear that?"

For a moment she could only hear the pounding of her heart and the sound of whirring wind atop the Astronomy tower, but slowly the faint sound of piano came within ear shot. After a few seconds, the melancholic sound of gentle music filled her head.

"I hear it," she responded, nodding as the music began to alleviate her anxieties. The sound of soft piano keys slowly faded out and in its place came the sound of rushing water.

"What do you hear now?" he asked her, his hand still holding firmly onto hers.

"The ocean, I'm at the beach," she responded. Though her sight was gone, the soothing sound of waves crashing down on the shore brought her back to her childhood memories with her parents during holiday. She could hear the sound of seagulls overhead, and the laughter of children nearby as they played in the sand. Hermione's shoulders relaxed, her chin had lifted as she outstretched her free arm, mistaking the soft breeze of the outside Scottish air for the marine winds at her favorite beach. She inhaled deeply, expecting to smell the salty sea but she could only smell pine and the fresh outdoor air.

"I'm bringing you back," he spoke softly as Hermione gripped his hand. " _Finite incantatem_."

What was once the soft warm glow of candlesticks now appeared to be as bright as the sun as Hermione's mind adjusted to the light, her vision slowly recovering. She shook her head and reached to rub her temples as she became re-accustomed to her own senses.

"What on earth was that?" she asked once she recovered, blinking as her gaze adjusted. Blond hair became clearer and the sharp features of Draco Malfoy came into focus.

"Are you alright?" he responded, "that was the Illusionment Charm."

"There's no such thing, Draco," she spoke with frustration, "What did you just do?"

"I'm telling the truth. It's a spell that my grandfather taught me, it's called the Illusionment Charm, and it's not something very many people can do."

"So you," she backed away from him slowly, the faint sound of the ocean still ringing in her ears as it faded into her memory, "blinded me? Or-or played music in my mind?"

"Here, Granger," he guided her gently by her elbow down into the pillows to sit. She obliged as he sat down next to her, his legs crossed before him as he sat upright. "I didn't blind you, the spell simply manipulates your senses. If cast correctly, it can make you see, hear, smell, taste anything. I am still trying to get better at the sensation of touch," he sighed in irritation, "but the body has a lot of nerve endings to fool and manipulating touch can be quite draining on the caster."

"You can make me see anything?"

Draco nodded in response.

"In theory, yes," he replied, "but it can be a bit challenging to remove my own feelings and emotions from the manipulation, and it's a lot safer to delve into memories than to create a brand new world. Imagination can be a bit tricky since it's hard to control where my mind goes when I'm casting the spell."

"Hmm," Hermione nodded, "it felt very serene. Scary at first when I didn't know what was happening..."

"Mhmm, I was a bit nervous, you probably felt that," Draco ran his fingers through his hair, "I haven't done that spell on other people very much."

"But then it felt very peaceful," Hermione continued, almost unaware that he had spoken. "Calm and loving... I wanted to be there." Hermione looked up at him again, her eyes wide. "Do it again!"

"Er, I'm not sure, Granger," Draco responded, "I'm a bit out of practice, and it does exhaust me a bit."

"Please?" she asked, excitement sparkling in her features. "I've never seen anyone do such a spell - it's like legilimency but better. Just for a moment more," she pleaded. Draco sighed, rolled his shoulders back and nodded, conceding to her whims.

"Alright, but only for a few minutes," he said. "Where would you like to go?"

"Take me somewhere happy, somewhere from your childhood. A fond memory or something like that." Draco took her hand in his; though he could have easily cast the spell without touching her, he hoped that amidst the visions she would stay grounded and connected to him as he held her hand. Quietly and softly he spoke the incantation again, and darkness fell before Hermione once more.

This time it was the smell that hit her first. Fresh green grass, clean crisp air, and the scent of leather filled her nostrils.

"Be careful, Draco! You nearly hit that tree! What did your father tell you?" the voice of a young woman could be heard, half-laughing amid her stern speech.

"Sorry, mum!" came the voice of a young boy. Slowly, the scene appeared before her. She was flying, whirring through the air.

Draco felt Hermione's chest tighten as she held her breath. "You're fine," he whispered, "you won't fall. Look around."

Hermione could see around her, the bright green grounds perhaps thirty feet below her as little legs dangled over a thick dark brown broomstick. Then before her appeared a flash of gold, and small chubby fingers reached out for it. It was Quidditch, Hermione realized, as she took in the sights of Malfoy Manor below.

"Draco, you're too high up, come down a bit!" the young woman's voice called out. Hermione looked down to see a beautiful lithe woman with stark, pale blond hair and a long gray dress beckoning below.

"Coming mum," the young boy's voice called out as the broomstick slowly dipped toward the ground. Draco couldn't have been older than seven or eight in this memory, with his small fingers and child-size broomstick. The feeling of flying felt exhilarating, something Hermione was entirely unfamiliar with having never been adept at flying or particularly good at handling heights. It was a novel experience, the emotions of pure joy reverberating through her being. The grounds below were expansive, pristine and full of intricate details only the wealthy could afford. A tall stone fountain overflowed near where Narcissa Malfoy sat, watching over her first and only son. Before Hermione knew it, the broomstick sped forward with her on it, and the small fleshy hand of young Draco reached out toward a golden sparkle in the sky.

"Yes!" came the sound of young Draco Malfoy, and Hermione could see the small hand grasping the golden snitch in his palm. She could feel his excitement.

"Draco!" now it was the sound of a man who called his name. "Draco, enough of your games, come down I have some men here who I'd like you to meet."

Lucius Malfoy stood next to his wife, and embraced her. Behind him stood several men, clad in black.

"Yes, father," he responded obediently, the broomstick lowering gracefully back to the ground. As Draco approached the men, the outline of his father's face became more apparent, his features growing from the fuzzy outline from his long-forgotten memories to the vivid sharp features that adorned his father's face. The more she saw his face, the more Hermione could feel the joy fading from her body.

It was black again, but only for a moment, as she was transported elsewhere.

A courthouse? A small council of jurors in ridiculous robes. The long, straight hair of Lucius Malfoy as he stood in tattered robes.

"The ministry has ruled: life in Azkaban prison!"

The vision faded as soon as it came. All she could feel was sorrow, an immediate sense of emptiness and loss. Hermione couldn't take it. She wanted to cry, but she didn't have the heart. She could feel the pain but it was as if she had lost all sense of herself.

"It's for your father!" a shrill, female voice rang in Hermione's mind, but all sight had gone and she sat in the blackness. "Bring him honor and glory, Draco."

"No!" Draco broke the spell, crashing through Hermione's trance as her mind emptied itself of the visions, sounds, and sense of hollow desperation. She attempted to breathe, but felt as though a dozen bricks had been stacked atop her chest. She pulled herself to sit up and stared ahead at the night sky.

"I feel like I've been kissed by a dementor," she mustered, dazed.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Draco said, taking her hands in his. He lowered his forehead into her hands and sighed. "I thought this might happen; I'm not skilled at controlling where my mind goes, please don't be scared."

"Scared?" she asked, turning to him with concern. "Why would I be scared?"

Hermione pulled her hands from him and forced his chin up to look her straight in the eyes. "Draco, is that how you feel? It was so dark and cold. I felt so utterly alone."

His muscles were stiff, as if made of stone, and his expression appeared impenetrable. The intensity of the man before her would have previously given Hermione pause, but having seen what she had Hermione knew she could brave the poor soul. She had to.

Draco sat there, silent as the night, while Hermione watched him with a mix of worry and expectancy. At last, he broke the silence with a deep sigh before he drew himself up and approached the table. His fingers mindlessly moved to poured himself another tall glass of firewhiskey which he brought to his lips and drank with two fluid gulps, as though it were mere pumpkin juice. He groaned at the feeling, and winced as the alcohol flavor overcame his tastebuds.

"Fine," he resolved, finally looking down at the perturbed girl, "yes. Is that what you want? Yes, that's how I feel sometimes."

Draco sat the glass atop the table and paced with an air of anxiety that seemed to follow him.

"I fully regret sharing that experience with you," his voice was soft and steady, but they cut Hermione with deep jabs, "I should have known that there were no happy memories left that weren't tainted with some form of sadness or trauma. It's been a living hell being back here, chatting with these idiots who think they know what it's like to endure hardship. They don't know anything. I'm surrounded by children, and all I'm trying to do is keep my head afloat so I don't drown in my own fucking pit of despair." Draco paused and rolled his eyes at his own words, "I sound like a sodding idiot, whining about my dad and my poor pathetic life." He reached up to pull his hair back out of his face and rested his hands behind his head as he sighed up toward the sky.

"What can I do?" came the quiet, docile voice of Hermione as she looked up at him, concern painted all over her face.

It warmed his heart to see her, her big, chestnut eyes pleading for an answer though he knew he didn't have one.

He chuckled, despite himself. What could she do? Wasn't that the million dollar question.

"Granger," he whispered as he lowered himself back down to sit. He sat at her feet and reached forward, cupping her face with his hands. "Granger," he repeated, softer this time, "please believe me when I say that you have done more for me than you could ever know. I am so grateful for you, you've made my life a million times better than I could have hoped for. Please, trust me when I say that I want what's best for the both of us. Can you do that?"

Hermione nodded softly. Draco reached forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, which was creased with concern. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and guided them both backward into the pillows where he held her closely against him, his fingers running mindlessly through her hair.

Draco's head felt cloudy with exhaustion. From the eavesdropped conversation between Snape and Trelawney, to the Arithmancy predictions from Hermione, to the messy memories of his father, the night had not gone exactly as Draco had hoped.

As though sensing it, Hermione wiggled her way around to face him and hoisted herself onto her elbow, looking down at the young man.

"Well," she started, concern having faded entirely from her face, "I can confidently say I was wrong about tonight."

"Hm?" Draco asked.

"You certainly did not bring me here to seduce me." Hermione's lips were pursed with amusement, and Draco chuckled in response.

"Don't be so sure," he responded, lazily pulling himself up onto his own elbow to meet her gaze. "The sad tortured soul bit didn't work, it seems. Perhaps I have other tricks up my sleeve..."

Hermione laughed at the thought of it. "You'd better pull them out soon, it's getting past my bedtime."

Draco smirked at her and shook his head. "No tricks," he murmured. He reached over and ran his fingertips down her jaw line and dragged gently over her neck. Goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms in response to his touch and she closed her eyes, relishing in the gentle sensations.

"Are you alright?" Draco whispered, his attentive gaze observing her reactions. His fingertips continued to explore her skin, running over her collarbone and gently grazed the soft flesh of her neck.

"Mmm," she responded, "mmhm." At most, Hermione felt concern for him. Even at her worst times she had never experiencing such harrowing anguish, and though she wanted to save him from it with all of her might she knew she couldn't. He had asked her to trust him, and she would. For his sake she was alright, and willing to bring him happiness however she knew how.

Draco studied her features, her eyes were closed beneath thick brown lashes and her breathing had slowed and softened. He leaned over to her, and gentle as can be he pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her shoulder. The thin layer of stubble which had grown on his chin and cheeks grazed against her skin and caused a shiver to travel down her spine. Hermione inhaled sharply, lifting her chin in invitation. Not one to let an opportunity go, Draco ran his lips up to drag over her shoulder and up to her neck. As he planted soft, featherlight kiss after kiss on her neck, Hermione felt waves of tingles run through her.

She moaned softly at his touch, his painfully soft touch which drove her mad. The ghost of a smile formed on his lips as he observed her, cloudy and dazed. Her lips were parted, pink and soft, and her cheeks had developed a rosiness to them.

Delectable was the woman before him, ever so fiesty when it was called for, but soft and delicate at his embrace.

"My lioness," he whispered softly, his hot breath landed on her lips before his own lips captured hers in a tender, supple kiss. He could feel her press into it, as though awakening her from her peace. Her fingers slipped into his hair, cupping the back of his head. Their lips pressed together, gentle yet firm, singlehandedly wiping away doubt and worry from their minds.

He let his lips graze against hers, and dipped down to trap her lower lip gently between his own lips as he suckled on it. Her breath was shallow and hot, and the hand which had innocently cupped the back of his head was now exploring down, dragging over his broad back and down toward his hips. As he pulled back from the kiss, he could feel desire emanating from her. She leaned forward to reignite the embrace, her hands pulling him toward her, but he knew his limits. Though he had not brought her there to seduce her, she seemed to have no qualms with seducing _him_.

"Hermione," he murmured into her lips. The sound of her name seemed to snap her out of the fog and her heavy lashes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his again.

"Mm?" she responded, running her fingers back through his hair as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I would love nothing more than you keep you here to myself all night," he whispered into her hair, "but there will be some people wondering where you are in the morning."

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms even tighter for a brief moment, holding him in a hug, before she released him.

»»-¤-««


	10. X: Justice

AN: Hey there dear reader,

I apologize that these chapters are taking longer to update.

As you'll notice they are growing longer, so I hope you'll forgive the wait.

Thank you, as ever, for your feedback and support.

\- S

»»-¤-««

X: **Justice**

" _Please stop!" a woman pleaded, her voice quivering._

 _"Oh, poor litt'l muddy blood, isn't this what you wanted?" another woman asked, shrill and intense. All that could be seen was a long, bent walnut wand twirling round by slender, calloused fingers with long claw-like nails. "You must have known this was to come... when you try to sully a long line of pure wizards with your filthy muggle blood."_

 _The girl who first spoke was now visible, amidst the fog on the ground. Everything seemed foggy, yet she was so vivid and real. On the floor she lay, wrapping her arm around her torso, her left arm entirely blistered and red as merlot. She was sobbing and whimpering to herself, her cries carried and echoed in the dismal space around her._

 _By her feet lay two pieces of wood, cracked in half, discarded on the grassy ground. There was something familiar about her, something that called to protect her._

" _It's not true," she begged, her voice cracking as she continued to clutch her arm._

 _"You dare!" hissed the voice. Anger was all that existed in that moment. Like a flicker of a lightbulb, everything changed to red-hot rage. "You dare correct me, you pathetic little girl. We know_ everything _." The voice paused. As quickly as it came, the anger was gone, and in its place was amusement. "You think you can trick me?" The voice laughed, maniacal and haunting. "You're a liar, that's what you are. And liars don't deserve mercy, do they?"_

 _Sheer joy._

 _"Crucio!" the voice commanded with glee. The sound of screams filled the air as the girl on the floor writhed in pain. "Yes! You agree with me, don't you? CRUCIO!"_

 _The girl's back was arched, and the sound of bones cracking in uncontrollable writhing radiated through the open field. She attempted to suck in air, but she could not breathe. Her ribs had squeezed so tightly that there was no room for air to be captured, and yet those screams still rang in the air._

 _"No..." a voice pleaded, but it was not the woman's voice._

"NO!"

Draco jumped up to his own screaming. He was disoriented - where was he? Where had he just come from? His eyes told him that he was in the boy's dormitory of the Slytherin dungeons, where he had gone to bed the night before, but his heart was pounding like he had fought a war. He reached up to touch his face and felt wetness. His throat was sore. Had he been screaming all night?

Draco's mind was spinning. As each second passed, he was able to take a deeper breath, his muscles began to unclench, and his heart rate lowered closer to baseline. But his stomach still churned as he pictured that girl on the ground. He knew who it was. His heart yearned for her the way it yearned for Hermione. Nausea roiled within him, threatening to overcome him.

He jumped up to his feet. The olive coloured bedsheets had an outline of his body, marked in sweat.

 _I need to see her_ , he thought with urgency, _I need to know she's okay._

»»-¤-««

The Great Hall was noisy as ever. The sounds of students chattering about the upcoming Quidditch game, silverware clanging against ceramic plates, and owls hooting and whizzing above-head drowned out any semblance of thought that could pass through Hermione's mind that morning. It was alright, though. She was sitting with her two best friends, and her spirits were as high as ever. Despite this, she could feel the cold glares across the Gryffindor table from a curly haired blond girl.

"She's staring again," Hermione muttered under her breath. Ron who had a mouth full of porridge looked over, though as soon as he had a look of guilt flashed across his features.

"I don't reckon she'll be forgiving either of us anytime soon, Hermione," Ron responded once he had swallowed. Hermione attempted to not make eye contact, but she had noticed that Lavender Brown had pink, puffy eyes and was whispering hushedly with Parvati Patil who would often glare at Hermione.

"Forgive me? I haven't done anything!" Hermione replied.

"Right," said Harry, "but she did see you two coming out of the boy's dormitory together, and she's been rather jealous of you for some reason."

Ron squirmed in his seat and distracted himself by shoveling toast in his mouth. Harry was right. On several occasions Lavender had expressed jealousy, but Hermione had chalked it up to being an insecure young girl with a new paramour, not because Hermione and Ron were cavorting around in the Gryffindor boy's dormitories together! _That's absurd,_ she thought to herself. _Though_ , the voice in her head responded, _not as absurd as who I've really been cavorting with._

As the thought crossed her mind, the tall, lean figure of Draco Malfoy entered her periphery. She had not expected to see him, as he had missed many breakfasts this year, though beyond that she observed that as he walked toward the Slytherin table, his gaze was aimed toward her - directly _at_ her. It was Hermione's turn to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. She wondered what had come over him to be so obviously open about looking at her. _Maybe he's staring at Harry?_ she thought. No, she realized, he was definitely looking at her.

"Well, what am I supposed to do then?" Hermione spoke suddenly, attempting to divert her attention, "I've already told her that she's being irrational, what more could I do to clear my name?"

"Gee Hermione, I wonder why she hasn't requested to be best friends," Ron responded, "Telling her she's irrational, honestly."

"It did look suspicious," Harry replied, with amusement.

"You were there too!" Hermione said.

"Under the Invisibility Cloak, yeah. To Lavender it just looks like her boyfriend and the girl she's jealous of came out of the bedroom together, of course she's mad at you both."

"Plus, I'm the one that ended it," Ron replied with a shrug, "'can't feel too good to be her right now."

Hermione sighed. Empathy was not the emotion she wanted to be experiencing in that moment.

"Alright," she huffed, "I'll be nicer to her. So long as I never have to hear her call you 'Won Won' again."

Harry shook with laughter and Ron scowled into his plate.

The rest of breakfast was unremarkable for Hermione. Lavender and Parvati left the table several moments before Harry excused himself to prepare the field for practice.

"I'll meet you there," Ron had told Harry, and Hermione had thought nothing of it, though when they had turned to leave, Ron caught her by the elbow.

"Wait, Hermione," Ron said as soon as they had exited the Great Hall. Hermione, startled, turned around and raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"What is it, Ron?"

"It's just," Ron started, his gaze lowering, "I wanted to say sorry." Confused, Hermione did not respond right away as she stared at him, his ears turning pink. "I think I've been a bit of a dolt with Lavender, and I didn't mean to be insensitive to you. It was weird to not have you around all the time," Ron said. It was fortunate for them that the students were too busy discussing the upcoming Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw game as they walked out of the Hall to pay the duo any mind. Hermione had no idea what had come over Ron, for he had not been one to make any public displays. Throughout the past six years of knowing him, she had never known him to be openly vulnerable; perhaps that was why Hermione had felt especially touched by his gesture.

"Ron," she spoke, looking up at him. As her gaze rose, the sparkle of silver-blond hair caught her eye and she quickly felt the eyes of Draco Malfoy on her. Though they had exited the Great Hall, they were very much visible from the edges of the tables, and Hermione could feel his gaze boring through her. "It's, er," she felt nervous, though she wasn't sure why. "It's fine, Ron," she managed, "Honestly, you're fine. We can go back to normal."

Ron smiled, the pinkness of his ears having spread to his face. "Great!" he replied, "I - er - y'know, wanted to clear the air... for Quidditch. Don't want any bad nerves or anything to get in my way during the game."

"Right," Hermione nodded with a smile, grateful that the conversation was coming to an end. "You'll do great, Ron," she said, patting his arm and turning on her heel to head to class.

»»-¤-««

Draco Malfoy was having a terrible morning. Though he had woken up to the worst dream of his life, he had begun to feel better once he was able to see her at breakfast. Hermione was sitting as if nothing had happened to her, chatting and laughing away with her friends across the hall at the Gryffindor table. He was grateful that she was alright, but his day began to sour with each moment that passed - and he had only gotten past breakfast before his day was ruined.

There was something about Weasley he didn't like. Granted, he had never liked the weak little weasel, but especially of late he did not trust the boy. And when Weasley stopped Hermione, spoke with her _privately_ , and touched her arm, it made a knot form at the pit of Draco's stomach. Weasley looked so serious, so solemn, when he spoke with her. Draco wanted to whisk her away and keep her to himself.

 _That's not healthy,_ he thought, _or sustainable._ And yet, he yearned for it.

"Draco," the sound of a high-pitched voice rang, "you've barely had any breakfast, are you alright?" Pansy stared at him as if he was the most peculiar person she'd seen.

"I'm fine," he responded shortly, pouring pumpkin juice in a metal goblet. The sweet liquid tasted sickening to him, and he did not know how to calm his stomach after such a turbulent morning. He stood up to leave the Great Hall, but before he could pull his leg out from one side of the bench, the loud screech of a black owl rang from above. Moments later, a large, black envelope fell atop Draco's empty plate. There was nothing written on the envelope, no name to identify the recipient, no return address, nothing to prepare Draco for what was to come.

Draco sat back down onto the bench and felt the eyes of Pansy on him, the rest of his classmates preoccupied with predicting the downfall of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Draco peeled the envelope open, and pulled out a single strip of parchment paper which he unfolded. The message read:

 _I trust that you have not forgotten about your task._

 _Every day that passes is another day closer to your last._

 _Do not disappoint me, Draco._

 _Do it for your father._

 _LV_

It was fortunate that Draco had foregone eating breakfast that morning, because he had nothing to throw up when he read that letter. It felt like a sack of bricks fell onto his shoulders and the weight of it was going to overwhelm and crush him.

What more could he be doing to further his goals?

Throughout the year he had attempted to fix the broken Vanishing Cabinet. He had sent various poisoned and hexed items, with the hopes that it would reach Dumbledore and end the old man's life once and for all. What did the Dark Lord want him to do? Stab him in the back? Suffocate him in his sleep?

He didn't want to. He hated that it was his task. He was not a monster.

His gaze lingered on the words on the paper.

 _Do it for your father._

The only reason Draco Malfoy could do something that vile, evil, and horrific was to protect his family. And protect them from what? His mother was under the arm of the Dark Lord himself, his father held within the confines of Azkaban. And here he was, trapped under the weight of his own conscience.

Draco felt sick again, as if his entire body was going to collapse from overwhelming emotion. Anger, jealousy, guilt, fear all rolled over Draco like a dark wave. Crumpling the paper in his hand, Draco quickly stood up and ran out of the Great Hall, leaving Pansy to stare after him in confusion.

»»-¤-««

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

With an impatient huff, Hermione continued to tap her foot as she waited in the corridor for the wooden doors of the Arithmancy class to open. What a stupid mistake she had made. Though Arithmancy had quickly become her favorite class, it was still a challenge to Hermione. The art required both dedicated knowledge as well as intuition, which often eluded her. However, Professor Vector had made it clear to her that she had quite an eye for the art of arithmanic divination. Regardless of her talents, though, Hermione had realized a rather unforgivable error she had made on her essay and was hoping for a chance to rectify the mistake for a higher grade. So there she waited, minutes after dinner, hoping that Professor Vector would be available after hours to discuss the schoolwork with her.

Hermione's day had passed along like most other days. She was grateful to have the boys back in her life as they used to be, the inseparable trio - best friends. Though Hermione was always acutely aware of the fact that she held a looming secret that would overwhelmingly destroy the golden trio. A certain Slytherin man would no doubt come in between herself and both Ron and Harry, and she couldn't hold it against them if they did not forgive her. If they only knew how Draco _really_ was, with her. It was almost unfair that the man had to stay a secret; he was misunderstood, that's all. He isn't some monster, or a spineless supremacist that required purging of all non-wizard blood. Perhaps he was before, but now he was _kind?_ At the very least civil, sweet, and...

Hermione blushed as she thought about him. The evening on the astronomy tower lingered on her mind for days.

 _Focus, Hermione, you're here for your essay,_ a voice nagged in her mind. Hermione took a few steps forward and knocked again on the large wooden doors. As she did, she felt something unusual. Her wrist felt tighter, her fingers tingled. One, two, stop. Again, her wrist pulsed. One, two, stop. She peered down at her hand and saw that the coiled, enchanted floral bracelet was curling tightly around her wrist, pulsing like a heartbeat. The blossoms were a dark, blood red, and the stems and leaves were a cool silver. She stared at it, attempting to understand as it continued to pulse, harder, yet slower, like a heart beat. She could not understand it, but a sense of fear began to dwell in Hermione. This did not feel like a beckoning invitation, or a sweet message. This felt like... danger.

"He's deeeeaaaaaddddd! Potter killed him!" came the sound of a high-pitched shriek down the corridor. Hermione's legs moved faster than her mind as she ran toward the source of the sound. She pushed past a wooden door before she found herself in the girls' lavatory.

" _Myrtle?_ What are you doing here? _Who's_ dead?" Hermione demanded as a first year Ravenclaw ran out of the restroom in confusion. They were on the seventh floor; Hermione had seldom seen Myrtle venture that far from her restroom on the first floor.

"Malfoy! Harry Potter killed Draco Malfoy!"

Blood drained from her face upon the words. It couldn't be.

"Myrtle, tell me exactly what happened now." Hermione directed, her impatience growing as Myrtle sniffled and sobbed.

"I saw the whole thing! They were quarreling and then poof! Harry hits Draco with a ghastly spell that caused blood to spurt out everywhere. It was _everywhere!_ "

"He's _dead_?" the words escaped her lips, but Hermione couldn't process them. "Draco is dead?"

"Well, last I saw he was close to it!" Myrtle sobbed, "but then that nasty Potions professor shoo'd me away. Out of my own home!"

Hermione's breathing was shallow and quick, like the intense beating of her own heart which synchronized with the coiling tightness of the bracelet.

 _The bracelet_. Hermione stared down at it, as it feebly and deeply squeezed her wrist, the colour of the petals still a rich maroon. _He's not dead. He can't be dead._

With resolve and confidence, Hermione ran out of the girls' lavatory on the seventh floor, leaving the wailing sounds of moaning Myrtle behind her, as she ran toward the Gryffindor common room.

"Tapeworm!" she shouted at the Fat Lady, who bowed her head and permitted her access into the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione crawled into the portrait and stumbled on the other side, her nerves growing frantic.

"Ron, where's Harry?" she asked, breathless from running as she stared wild-eyed at the red-head seated in front of the fireplace.

"You just missed him," Ron responded, alarmed as he stood up to face her. "What's wrong?"

"Where did he go?" she asked, "Was he alright?"

"Well yeah, he was fine," Ron answered, "a bit covered in blood from what I saw. He needed my Potions book, but couldn't tell me why. He just left a minute ago."

"Do you know where he went?" She asked desperately. Ron shrugged and shook his head.

"He looked alright, Hermione, I think he's okay. It wasn't his blood, from what I could tell." Hermione's heart sank to the ground. Another dead end. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Yeah," she nodded, attempting to soothe her breathing as she walked away from Ron. She absentmindedly headed up the stairs to the Girls Dormitories but stopped short of the door. Pacing anxiously, she moved back down the steps. And then back up. She peered down to her bracelet to check that it was still pulsing, as if it gave her any indication or comfort that Draco was indeed alive and alright. She needed answers. At the very least if she did not know what was happening, she needed to know where to find him.

 _The map!_ She gasped, upon realization that Harry held within his trunk the single most valuable item to her at that moment. With a few quick strides she pushed past the Boy's Dormitories and sighed with gratitude that it was empty. She wasted no time reaching for Harry's trunk and pulling out a folded old piece of parchment. With her wand pressed against the blank page, Hermione whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Instantaneously, the map came to view. Small dots with names appeared out of nowhere, and Hermione scanned the entirety of it with precision. _Come on, where are you._ She saw Ron in the Gryffindor common room. She saw herself not that far away from him. She scanned the Slytherin Dormitories but she could not see Draco anywhere. It wasn't until her gaze fell on the Hospital wing that she saw his name clearly written. She exhaled with relief. He was alive. At least for now, he was alive enough to appear on the Marauder's Map. Tears began to cloud her vision as she saw his name clear as day.

Another dot, a moving one, also came into her vision. Harry was moving rather quickly throughout the corridors and toward the Gryffindor Dormitory. Finally she would get answers.

Hermione pulled out her wand again and pressed it into the page, preparing to complete the spell and wipe the map clear, but an invasive thought ran through her head as she realized what a tool the map had been. If she was able to find Draco on the map, then Harry would no doubt be able to find her at any time he wanted. He would be able to see her with Draco. In Myrtle's bathroom, in the astronomy tower, where ever they had decided to hide.

For the sake of her own safety and comfort, Hermione pressed the wand on her own name and not knowing whether she would have any success at all, she muttered the words of a stealth incantation, "Ego occultatum, ego adsum." To her surprise, the dot with her name moved. She concentrated on the task, bewitching the map to reveal her location when she was close to Harry and assorting her location to several places when she was not with Harry: primarily the library, classrooms, or the girl's lavatory. She sighed in relief, sweat having collected in small beads on her forehead. For some reason she had completely forgotten about the fact that Harry could have found her with Draco on the map, and she prayed now that Harry had not fought with Draco after finding out about the two of them. Her stomach became more knotted than it had previously been.

"Mischief managed," she muttered and shoved the map back into his trunk. Hermione ran down the steps of the dormitories just in time as a raven haired boy crawled through the portrait hole. His shirt was entirely maroon, and though his robes were black they appeared to be glistening as if having been drenched in oil.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"It was an accident," Harry responded nervously. Ron, who had been occupying himself with one-person wizard's chess, stood up and joined his friends as Hermione interrogated Harry.

"Tell me what happened, right now, Harry! Myrtle has been telling half the school that you killed Malfoy!"

"No - ugh, stupid Myrtle - I didn't kill him. He isn't dead." Harry stammered, "I was worried he might be."

"You were worried he _might be_?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"He's alright," Harry assured, though Hermione had a difficult time believing him with his face and clothing entirely covered in blood. Hermione was grateful that the common room was nearly empty, as she was ready to shake Harry until he told her everything and _quickly_. "Snape took him to the Hospital Wing after patching some of his wounds."

"Why did you attack him?" her voice was shrill, and she tried to calm her tone to not appear too interested in the victim at hand, but inside she felt like screaming.

"Hermione, I saw him in the lavatory and tried to figure out what he was up to but he spotted me, started attacking me," Harry spoke, rubbing his forehead which was creased with dried blood. "and I had learned a spell from my Potions book and thought it would at least disarm him, or do something funny like make him dance or something. I didn't know it would cut him all up like that."

"Serves him right," Ron responded, crossing his arms. "Malfoy struck first, you were only defending yourself."

Hermione stared at Ron, attempting to stifle the impulse to smack him for his statement.

"I caught him off guard, he was..." Harry paused, "crying. Talking to Myrtle and crying, seemed really torn about something."

Ron threw back his head and cackled at Harry's statement. "You caught Malfoy _crying_ in the bathroom? If he wasn't in the hospital right now, I'd say let's tell the whole school that Moaning Myrtle's got a friend: Moaning Malfoy."

"You're _sure_ he's alright?" Hermione cut in, glaring disapprovingly at Ron, "Harry, this could ruin you forever if you end up k-killing a student - even on accident."

"Hermione, last I saw he was doing alright," Harry assured, "I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm glad Snape was nearby, he saved Malfoy's life by tending to his wounds so quickly, and now he's in Madame Pomfrey's hands."

"Alright," Hermione responded with a nod, "I was worried about you." The statement was not false, but it tasted like a lie to Hermione. Though she was concerned for Harry's reputation, she was predominantly and intensely concerned for Draco. The dryness in her throat made it difficult for her to speak, and she turned away from the boys as the corners of her eyes began to sting, "I've just remembered that I left my Arithmancy book with Professor Vector, I'll see you both later."

And with that, Hermione turned on her heel and crawled back into the portrait hole. As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut, a stream of tears ran down her cheeks as she sprinted down the cold, quiet corridors of the Hogwarts castle. She maneuvered through the halls without a care of who or what she ran past and nearly ran into a shuffling suit of armor. Hermione slowed down once she squeezed past a group of giggling third year students chatting with a portrait of a French Duke. Before she realized how she got there, Hermione was standing at the foot of the large wooden doors of the Hospital Wing.

It was after hours, Hermione knew that. Most often visitors of the sick patients were ushered out by dinner to ensure that Madame Pomfrey could administer the last doses of medicine for the evening before turning in, but Hermione was determined to figure out a way. Her heart was pounding, and her eyes continued to sting with the threat of tears, but she swallowed her emotions and pressed her weight against the heavy doors, careful to push it slowly in order to prevent it from squeaking and drawing attention to her arrival.

She gingerly slipped into the wing without a peep. Hermione hardly remembered what the Hospital Wing was like after hours. The lanterns on the walls were extinguished, and the only light that illuminated the large wing was from the moon glistening above the horizon, drawing long shadows on the tile floor. Each patient had their own bed, and large curtains were drawn around them to allow for privacy. Hermione prayed that most of the patients were asleep, as she had no idea where Draco could be amid the dozen or so beds that filled the room.

"You are running out of time!" hissed a voice, "when I made your mother that promise, I meant it - but this is my neck on the line, boy."

Hermione froze against the door, staring at the direction of the sound which appeared to be coming from behind one of the curtained spaces.

"I know," Hermione heard a weak yet familiar voice respond. Her heart leapt.

"Then don't waste your time playing childish dueling games with Potter, or meddling with foolish distractions." Hermione recognized the voice at once by the way he drew out his words, each one stinging more than the last. It had to be Severus Snape - but what was he talking about with Draco?

"Yes, professor," Draco said weakly.

"Now, get your rest, I expect you will be better and back to your task in no time."

Perhaps she was too carried away listening to the conversation to realize where she was but as she heard a footstep toward the end of the wing her heart began to pound. _I need to move!_ she realized as she stood directly in front of the only entrance and exit of the Hospital Wing. With three delicate, silent steps she reached the nearest curtain and pulled it behind her. Internally she cried for joy that the student whose room she was currently occupying was asleep. A note hung from the foot of the student's bed that read:

Aileena Habsberg

Hufflepuff

Second Year

Ailment: Black Cat Flu (3+ days)

Current Treatment: Licorice Root and Shrivelfig leaf decoction.

Valerian root, chamomile, and kava with scotch for sleep.

Allergies: Nickel.

Hermione looked sympathetically at the sleeping girl, who she noticed had red cheeks and a glistening forehead, notable symptoms of the Black Cat Flu. She held her breath, both in fear of catching the contagious ailment, and as a reaction to the sound of heavy, slow footsteps hitting stone tile floors as they slowly passed her. She waited until she heard the large wooden door open, and finally shut with a gentle thud before she peered out into the walkway between the rows of curtained hospital beds. It was eerily quiet to Hermione as she stepped out of the room, quietly closing the curtains on the sleeping, feverish Hufflepuff.

 _Now I need to just find him without anyone seeing me,_ Hermione thought. She was grateful that she knew the general direction that the voices had come from, toward the back of the Hospital Wing, and perhaps to the right. She made her way, careful to step softly and not alert any students who were awake. As she neared the end of the room, she pulled the curtain softly, leaving a thin gap for her to peer through in order to assess the hospital bed's inhabitants. The first bed she saw was another sleeping student with short, brown hair who appeared to be a first year. She frowned and moved to the next curtain, very gently pulling it to peek in. This time it was a girl, with long blond hair and boils on her face. She was sound asleep and gently snoring.

Hermione peeked into four separate student's hospital rooms to discover that all were asleep and none were Draco Malfoy. She sighed softly to herself. The thought passed in her mind that perhaps it was not a coincidence that all of the students were asleep while Snape was in the Hospital Wing, but Hermione could not in good conscience accuse Snape of using a sleeping enchantment on them without verifiable proof.

It was after she peered into the fifth sleeping student's room that Hermione heard a soft cough from the next bed over. She rushed to see the source of the sound, and when she saw silver hair through the sliver of space between the curtains, Hermione swung them open and rushed in.

Draco's eyes widened as he saw her, but he did not make any physical gesture and at first glance Hermione understood why. Draco was covered from neck down in white gauze, though several sections of his torso and legs were stained with red and Hermione gulped as she realized it was his blood that was seeping through the bandages. Tears threatened to well up again as she bit her bottom lip.

"Draco," she spoke softly, approaching his bed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Although the words stung Hermione, his tone was softened by his weakness.

"Are you alright?" she breathed, taking in the image before her. His normally piercing blue eyes were dulled with tiredness, and his pale skin was marked with several thin silver scars from his jawline to his forehead.

"I'll live," he replied softly, "for now, I s'ppose." Hermione frowned. She had not seen him so defeated, and Hermione had seen Draco hurt at the hand of Harry many times before during their regular fights.

"Draco, I'm so sorry this happened to you," she soothed, sitting down on the chair next to the bed as she reached for his hand, one of the few areas of skin that was exposed and not covered in bandages. His fingers curled around hers.

"Don't be," he shrugged, "I probably deserved it..."

Hermione couldn't help it. Since the moment she had heard that Draco was injured she had tried to swallow her tears and bury her emotions until she got to him, until she was able to make sure he was alright. But as he lay there before her, bloodied, tired, and futile, sadness overwhelmed her and tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't- Don't say that," she said softly, her voice breaking. Draco looked up at her, and upon seeing her tears his features warmed in sympathy. He squeezed her hand and sighed.

"Please don't cry," he whispered, with a soft groan of pain he reached his other arm over, resting his palm atop her wrist, his thumb caressing her skin softly. "I promise I'll be fine, it was a stupid fight."

Hermione shook with tears as they rolled down her cheeks and off her chin. "I was so scared," she murmured softly, sniffling, "I didn't know what to do."

"There's nothing to do," he assured, squeezing her hand again. His forehead was creased with concern as he watched her cry and Hermione could feel that he wanted nothing more than to reach for her fully and wrap his arms around her, but he lay there bandaged and injured, helpless in his bed.

"You boys are so stupid," she spat with frustration, her face growing warm with anger as her emotions rolled through her like a hurricane, "why did you two need to fight? What's the point of all this?"

Draco stayed silent. His face hardened as his gaze drifted away from her toward the window where stars twinkled beyond the horizon.

What could he have said to her? He was eternally grateful that it was him in the hospital at that moment and not Harry Potter. He had not forgotten how easily those words slipped past his lips as his wand was pointed in Potter's direction. _Crucio._ As if it was the simplest incantation, Draco had intended on striking Potter with the Cruciatus curse. A part of him prayed that it was an accident, he was caught off-guard and it was the first defensive spell that came to mind. But if that wasn't it, the only other reason had to be that Draco Malfoy was evil, and entirely capable of administering the Cruciatus curse on his peer, as he nearly did that evening. If it wasn't for Harry's spell getting to Draco first, he would have been added to the list of Death Eaters who reveled in torturing others. He would have been expelled, sent to Azkaban prison for the use of an Unforgivable Curse, and would never see Hermione again.

Perhaps that would have been better. That way he could live out his days away from hurting others, away from Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters. Though the thought of being kept away from Hermione tore at his insides. He looked at her again. Tears streamed down her glowing pink cheeks, her eyebrows were knit with frustration, and he could see that she was lost in thought, processing everything that had happened to her thus far. Despite all of it, he smiled.

When Hermione noticed the sudden smile, she stared at him, confused as ever.

"What could you possibly be smiling about?" she demanded, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

"I'm just now realizing," Draco spoke with amusement, "that you snuck into the hospital wing to chastise me for my bad behavior, after you likely also chastised Potter?"

"Someone has to!" Hermione said defensively. "It was stupid of you both!"

"You're right," he replied, sincerely. He regretted that evening from the moment that the fighting began. Something about the letter from Voldemort pulled Draco into darkness, and it wasn't Potter's fault that he got caught in the middle of it. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am."

"You really could have gotten hurt," she murmured, her features relaxing as she ran her fingers gently over the bandages, "more than you already did. You could have killed each other."

"I know," Draco soothed.

A few moments passed in silence as Hermione took note of his wounds and curiously read the medical chart at the foot of the bed.

Draco Malfoy

Slytherin

Sixth Year

Ailment: Unknown Hex

Current Treatment: Dittany and Moly decoction.

Blood-Replenishing Potion.

Allergies: Ginger.

"Hm," Hermione said as she looked down at the medical note, "I didn't know you're allergic to ginger." When she looked up she was surprised to see Draco shaking with laughter. "What so funny?" she asked.

"I'm not allergic to ginger," he said as he continued to chuckle, though he grimaced with pain as his laughter disturbed his healing wounds. "After that Hippogriff attacked me in third year, I was here in the hospital wing. Weasley was also admitted for a stupid injury or something, I'm not sure, and he was one bed over. When Madame Pomfrey came by to check on me, I let her know that I was very allergic to ginger and would need Weasley moved away from me as soon as possible. I guess she took it seriously, or has a good sense of humor, I'm surprised to see that been made official on my medical history."

Hermione scowled and rolled her eyes at him. "Well I like ginger," she replied as Draco raised a brow, "the food!" As he smiled in amusement, Hermione could not help but reciprocate the smile.

"I should get going, Draco," she said softly as she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, pushing them out of his face. "No one knows I'm here - they thought I had to pick up my essay from a professor and that was quite a while ago."

"Alright," he said, though somewhat solemnly. "I don't want to say this, but Hermione you can't visit me here anymore. It's too dangerous, for both of us."

Hermione sighed softly and nodded. He was right, of course. She had taken a major risk in visiting him that evening and was grateful that all of the students around him were in deep slumber. She may not have the same stroke of luck if she were to visit him again.

"I'll write you once I'm out," he assured, "I promise."

"Good," she replied and rose to her feet, preparing to pull her hand away from his in preparation to leave.

"Wait," he said softly, pulling her hand and herself closer to him, "come here." Draco pushed past the pain as he lifted his arm, letting his fingers curl behind Hermione's neck as he guided her toward him, pulling her in for a soft kiss. Her lips were salty from her tears, and they pressed into his softly as if afraid to hurt him even in the kiss. With his hand against her head, he pulled her in closer to him, deepening the kiss. This caught Hermione by surprise, but it delighted her insides as warmth welled up in her stomach as his tongue pressed against hers.

The kiss was long, deep, and heated. The small hairs on her arms stood up as goosebumps formed. All of the emotion of the day, the sadness, anger, fear, was expelled and transformed into the kiss. In its stead was gratitude, longing, and desire for him. When he finally released her, he pressed another, softer kiss on her bottom lip and smiled against her.

"I needed something to remember while I'm here," he whispered into her lips. With another, final kiss, the softest of them all, he lay back into his bed and lowered his hand. His features appeared content, much different than how they appeared when she first got there, and for the first time that day Hermione felt truly happy. Despite it all, she was able to find peace with the whole bloody situation.

»»-¤-««


	11. XI: The Empress

»»-¤-««

XI: **The Empress**

The fire blazed before Hermione. She stretched her legs, allowing her feet to grow warm near the heat emanating from the charred and crackling wood. It felt nice to be inside on a Saturday like this. Overhead, through the window, the image of Hogwarts castle was cast dark against the grey clouds and streaming, steady rain which bore down on the earth with ferocity. But here, within the warm, dry confines of Hagrid's hut, Hermione felt peaceful. If she listened closely enough, she could hear the pitter patter of water trickling down the gutter, and the sound of a cloud groaning with thunder overhead. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around a steaming mug, filled to the brim with a translucent golden liquid which filled Hermione's senses with its delicate floral aroma.

"Must'a been torture fer ye, Harry," Hagrid spoke to the trio, moving to place freshly baked biscuits on the table before them. His baking appeared to have improved significantly since their first few tea sessions together, Hermione noted, as the texture had evolved from that of a moldy stone to dry, old fruitcake. She smiled politely as he offered her a biscuit, and took it graciously, placing it on the side of her saucer.

"It was," Harry griped, shaking his head. "Has any student gotten this much detention? Every Saturday until _forever_? Honestly... He's just trying to keep me from stopping Voldemort." Hagrid cringed at the name and Ron nodded in response.

"When is Dumbledore gonna do away with Snape, anyway?" Ron spoke before taking a bite of the biscuit.

"That will never happen," Hermione chimed in. "Harry, I know you don't want to hear this, but perhaps the detention is a bit deserved. You did, after all, nearly kill a Hogwarts student. You're lucky it's just detention."

Ron rolled his eyes at her as Harry scowled at the idea. Though they had both grown used to Hermione taking the professor's side, the fact that she held them accountable for their actions was their least favorite attribute of hers.

"A' least Gryffindor won the Quidditch game!" Hagrid said, "Tha' was quite the game, I tell ye. Harry, ne'er woulda thought the team would pull through withou' ye bu' I'm glad they did."

"I would have never forgiven myself if Gryffindor lost the house cup all because of me," Harry responded into his cup.

"The rest of Gryffindor wouldn't have forgiven you either," Ron replied with a cheeky grin.

"How's Malfoy doin'?" Hagrid asked curiously, jabbing the poker into the fireplace to resurrect the flames.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione gazed down at her tea cup, lifting it to her lips for a sip. It had been several days since she had visited him in the Hospital Wing, and there was no news as to when he would be released. Rumors had spread quickly about what happened in Myrtle's bathroom; Harry had become a hero with several Gryffindors who viewed Draco Malfoy as the perpetual enemy. Harry, who was not without heart, did not take kindly to his newfound glory, and was quick to dismiss any positive appraisal that floated his way.

"No idea," Harry said, "I think he'll be alright. Snape hasn't said anything about it, so it seems like he'll make a recovery sooner or later."

"He'll be back to his annoying self in no time," Ron added. Hermione took another sip of the tea, gazing to the bottom of the cup as if it held the answers to all of life's questions.

"This tea is delightful, Hagrid," she interjected, quickly changing the subject. "Where did you get it?"

"Made it meself," Hagrid smiled with pride, "Was growin'a patch of elderflow'rs near the woods, bu' they were trampled. I was only able'a save enough to dry and make tea fer us today."

"Trampled by _what?_ " Ron asked, slightly concerned.

"Well it's funny ye ask," Hagrid started, and stood up. His head nearly hit the top of the hut's ceiling and he had to maneuver around the trio to not knock over any items perched on the walls. He reached the window behind Hermione and pointed forward, toward a grove of tall trees. "Few days ago, I spotted some hoof marks near the fores', just there. Follow'd the tracks and found these." Hagrid reached over to a shelf and held up several long, thick grey feathers. They were freyed, and a bit torn, but the sight of them immediately reminded Hermione of third year. Harry had the same reaction as his eyebrows rose toward his hairline.

"Hippogriffs?" Harry asked, astonished.

" _Wild_ hippogriffs?" Hermione asked, equally astonished.

"Aye," Hagrid nodded. "I ne'er though' I'd see Hippogriffs at Hogwar's again, after the Ministry made me sell the lot three years ago."

"Aren't they dangerous?" Ron asked, skeptically as he reached for the feather which was the length of his arm. "I mean, if they're wild and not used to people..."

"All Hippogriffs are dang'rous," Hagrid replied proudly, "but ye need to know how ter care fer 'em."

"What are they doing here?" Hermione asked, quirking her head with curiosity. The Forbidden Forest was home to many animals, but she always imagined a flying creature like the Hippogriff would prefer vast open lands, not dense forest.

"Dunno," Hagrid shrugged, "but I saw a trail'a spiders runnin' to the forest a few days ago, and the centaurs are drawin' deeper than ever. I think the me'eor show'r is messin' with all the creatures. Dunno wha'to make of it, bu' the Hippogriffs're matin' and seems like there's plen'y of 'em ou' in the Ferbidden Forest."

Harry caught Hermione's eye, as they both seemed to ponder Hagrid's words. The last time the spiders were acting unusually a basilisk was released within Hogwarts' walls. But a meteor shower did not scare Hermione, who shrugged and took another sip of her delectable tea.

"Well, we'll see what happens," she said. "There's nothing you can do to stop a meteor shower, is there?" Hagrid shrugged and maneuvered his way back to his seat.

"Speakin' of matin'," Hagrid said with a twinkle in his eye, "Ron, how're you'n Lavender doin'?"

Harry snorted into his tea as Hermione burst into laughter at Hagrid's words. Ron, however, turned a bright red as he scowled.

"I broke up with her, Hagrid," Ron replied, his nose the colour of a cherry, "she was too, er, needy, I s'pose."

"Sorry ter hear tha'," Hagrid responded with an apologetic shrug. "And wha'bout you, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at Hagrid wide eyed, and Ron shifted in his seat. "Er, no," Hermione replied, swirling her teacup in her hand absentmindedly, "no, there's no one."

"Hm," Hagrid replied, reaching for his teacup. The cup was so small in Hagrid's large hands that it seemed as though he could balance it on his thumb. "I coulda' sworn, ye look diff'rent. Ye seem to be glowin' an' happier'n usual. It isn' McClaggan, is it? I hear' him sayin' some thin's that made me want to wallop the boy in the ear."

"What things?" Ron asked, defensively. "About Hermione?"

"No," Hermione assured, feeling the warmth in her cheeks as she blushed harshly from the attention, "I am definitely not dating McClaggan."

"Good," Hagrid toasted with his teacup, "the boy's a mongrel."

Hermione laughed politely as the conversations quickly turned to Harry, who blushed as fiercely as Ron when news came up that he had kissed Ginny. Hermione was grateful that Harry had some romantic news for Hagrid to take in, and was happy that Harry had found some respite in Ginny. Though Hermione could not recall if Harry had ever had a calm and normal year at Hogwarts, he had appeared to grow more agitated and suspicious of people around him, including but not limited to Draco Malfoy, Horace Slughorn, and Severus Snape. She could tell that Harry had been on edge most of the year, and after nearly killing Malfoy she was hopeful that he could find some normalcy in a romantic relationship, like a typical sixteen year old. Hermione, on the other hand, did not seem to know what a normal relationship was.

Hermione's gaze slowly moved back toward the window, where she could view the now drying Hogwarts castle, the thick grey clouds slowly drifting away as the rain steadied to a subtle mist.

It wasn't long after their conversation that the trio began their trek back toward Hogwarts castle. The ground squished beneath their feet and soaked Hermione's ankles from the wet grass, but she let her head fall back and filled her lungs with the fresh, crisp air that smelled of raw soil.

Once they had made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, the boys occupied the vacant seats by the fireplace where they began to write their Defense Against the Dark Arts essays which Hermione had completed three weeks prior. Hermione joined them near the fire and as soon as her bottom hit the seat, she yawned and lifted her arms in a wide stretch before leaning back into the over-sized chair that enveloped her. She was exhausted, having had very little sleep over the past week due to the fact that two of her dormitory mates had made her life a living hell. Both Lavender and Parvati had decided that Hermione Granger was the worst girl at Hogwarts for stealing Ron away from Lavender, and although Hermione never cared much for gossip or cattiness she had no choice but to pay attention when the girls attempted to prank and otherwise torment her in the middle of the night. One evening Hermione had woken up with four frogs in her bed, on another she had woken up to her bed shaking violently, and on the most recent night she found herself being bounced out of her bed every time she began to drift off into sleep. Though the girls pretended to be innocently fast asleep during these occasions, she could see them shaking with laughter.

Hermione had grown wise after several days of sleepless anxiety, and enchanted her bed with a warding spell that would rebuff any spell or intruder out of her space. She had also decided on several methods of retaliation: she had cast the Nose-Stuffer spell on Lavender, which forced Lavender to have a perpetually stuffed up nose and nasal timbre without any relief. For Parvati, she cast a spell on her bookbags that made any and all writing utensils disappear forever, especially when she needed them most, like her Charms exam that afternoon.

Hermione smiled as she stared into the fire, her mind swirling with ideas of other spells to cast on the girls. She had not informed Harry or Ron of what had occurred, as she did not need Ron to come to her rescue against Lavender and she didn't want to distract Harry from his first month at peace with Ginny. The vindictive games actually preoccupied Hermione enough that she did not ruminate on Draco. The crackling of the fireplace and the feeling of being safely surrounded by her best friends comforted Hermione enough that she found herself dozing off in front of the fireplace, her head falling onto her shoulder as she fell fast asleep.

»»-¤-««

Several hours passed when Hermione was rocked gently from her slumber toward lucidity.

"Hermione, wake up!" Ron urged, shaking her shoulder, "it's dinner time, c'mon!"

"Huh?" she blinked, daze drifting from her mind as she saw the dying embers in the fireplace. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three hours," Harry replied with a gentle smile as Hermione rose to her feet and straightened her tie. "You seemed tired so we just let you sleep."

She nodded and thanked them as they walked toward the Great Hall together. The feast had already begun and Hermione followed the boys as they attempted to find a seat together. She reached for the apple cider and filled her goblet with it before reaching to fill her plate with several items of food. The boys had begun to discuss their essays, and had shared with Hermione their bleak outlook on their Defense Against the Dark Arts grade as Snape would always find reasons to dock points from their work.

"Well if you like I could review it for you," Hermione offered, "I've already turned mine in, but I could help you revise it if it needs revision."

"What d'you mean 'help us revise it'?" Ron asked, and Hermione shot him a sideways glance.

"I'm not going to write it for you, if that's what you mean," Hermione retorted.

Ron grumbled, "but Hermione you like writing papers!"

"Yes, and how will you learn to like writing them if you never have a chance to write properly yourself?" she responded as she took a sip of the apple cider. Harry appeared distracted as he looked over Ron's shoulder.

"Guys," Harry said, his voice lowered, "I think Malfoy's made a full recovery."

The words struck Hermione in the chest as she looked over at Harry, whose gaze was directed toward the Slytherin table. She followed his gaze and saw a sparkle of pale blond hair hidden behind the heads of towering Crabbe and Goyle. The sixth year Slytherins appeared to be laughing and enjoying their dinner, welcoming their friend back. As if he could feel her looking, he glanced up and met her gaze. Hermione felt her throat tighten and her heart quicken as they made eye contact, an entire hall between them. The faintest smile crossed his lips before he looked away and continued his conversation with his friends.

Within a moment, Hermione felt something tickle her ankles and she sat up with a quick gasp. This startled Ron, who looked up in the middle of biting into a chicken leg.

"S-sorry," Hermione stammered as she attempted to reach down to her feet where her fingers grasped the paper rabbit and shoved it into her book bag. "I just realized I have a library book that's overdue. I hope I have it with me," she said, bending down to inspect her bag for the book, meanwhile she unraveled the paper rabbit and attempted to read it from under the table.

 _Miss me?_

 _Meet me at the staircase_

 _above the potions classroom after dinner_

 _DM_

The boys fortunately paid her no mind, having become accustomed to her eccentricities. Regardless, Hermione had a difficult time readjusting to her normal pace of conversation with her friends. The plate of food in front of her which consisted of chicken, carrots, and yorkshire pudding, sat relatively untouched as Hermione's appetite had faded entirely at the prospect of meeting with him again. She could see him over Ron's shoulder as Ron continued to talk about his favorite international Quidditch teams. Having not seen Draco in several days, she felt as though she couldn't wait until dinner was over so she could speak with him again, hug him, feel him against her.

A loud sound jolted Hermione out of her daydream as she turned her head toward the source of the sound. Lavender Brown was attempting to blow her nose so hard that her face had become red and the veins in her forehead were jutting out. Ron raised his eyebrows as he watched her struggle.

"Serves her right," Hermione mumbled mindlessly to herself. She decided perhaps she did not need to administer any more hexes or jinxes to Lavender or Parvati, and she could now graciously forgive the two girls for messing with her. After all, Hermione had better things to think about.

»»-¤-««

Hermione's heart sank when she saw the staircase by the Potion's classroom was unoccupied. She had, after all, seen Draco leave the Great Hall after dinner. She dropped her book bag to the ground and leaned the side of her body against the cold marble railing while waiting patiently for Draco to meet her at their rendezvous point. Fortunately for her, she waited only a moment or two before two hands wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her back into a warm body. Hermione gasped, startled, as she had not heard a sound to notify her that someone was nearby.

"Well, did you miss me?" a deep, silken voice whispered into her ear. She squirmed to face him and wrapped her own arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest as she inhaled deeply. His scent, intoxicating smell of spicy musk, leather, and a sweetness that was only familiar and distinct to him, filled her mind and brought her back to her happy place. She fit so perfectly into his arms, his height allowed her head to fit under his chin and her arms wrapped tightly around his broad upper body. They stood there, holding each other tightly, as though they had both gone without water for days and this was their first drink. "Come," he whispered after a moment, "we can't be seen like this. Follow me."

Hermione did not know where they were headed, and should have expressed concern when he led them to a dead end at the end of a long corridor but she was too busy enjoying his presence to worry. He stopped and stared at the stone wall. They weren't far from the staircase that led downstairs to the dungeons, and Hermione watched as Draco knelt down and pressed his palm against one of the stones. To her surprise, it pressed in and remained that way before Draco reached up four stones and over three to the left. He pressed his palm against this stone as well, and it pressed in. With both stones pushed into the wall, she noticed a third stone had jutted outward. Draco tapped his wand against the stone and spoke the words, "Salazar's Scion." Hermione watched, mesmerized, as the wall shook before them and opened into a passageway. Draco took her hand and pulled her in with him.

The wall closed back up as soon as the two had stepped in, and Hermione did not look back as Draco led her through a narrow stone path that weaved and turned through the underbelly of Hogwarts. Once they approached a long set of stairs, Draco stopped her.

"Right, so once we get out of this passage, I will need you to follow me across the hall, but you need to be quick because this pathway is not far from the Slytherin common room. Alright?" Hermione nodded and they rushed down the steps, out of the passageway, and across the open dungeon hallway. This time Draco stood before a stone wall where he pressed his wand against a stone and spoke a different phrase, one that Hermione did not recognize.

"Custos puritas," he said confidently though quietly. The wall opened as if it were a door and Draco rushed in, pulling Hermione by the hand in with him.

Hermione stared in awe at the room she had just entered. The space shone a dark aquamarine, and although Hermione had assumed that the walls were painted an ill-suited colour she quickly realized that the walls themselves were actually floor-to-ceiling windows. Hermione gasped as she realized that, similar to those of the Slytherin common room, these windows looked inside the Black Lake. She watched wide-eyed as large schools of fish drifted out of the aquatic plants that swayed with the current.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Draco asked, unfastening his cloak as he moved to hang it on a hook suspended against the door. "I've always wanted to show this place to someone, but it's been a well-kept secret for a reason."

Hermione slowly turned on her heel to take in the nearly 360 degree view of the inside of the lake. As she did so, Hermione's gaze wandered to the different items that the room inhabited. In the corner, she noticed a lone harp. Near it stood a tall folding screen that reminded Hermione a bit of the privacy curtains in the Hospital Wing. The folding screen, however, appeared much more intricate with dark wood paneling, ivory silk, and lacquered green snakes as decoration on the expensive fabric.

"I've read about this!" Hermione gasped at her epiphany, "In _Hogwarts: A History_ , it says there are rumored to be several rooms that Salazar Slytherin built and kept secret, only passing the locations to several of his most trusted pupils. There are said to be half a dozen rooms, including secret libraries with forbidden tomes, bath houses, private bedrooms, and a cabinet full of rare potions supplies hidden somewhere in the castle. Draco," Hermione breathed with excitement, "People have been searching for these rooms since Hogwarts was built; I thought it was just a legend."

"It is just a legend for most people," Draco responded as he took Hermione's bookbag from her arm and hung it up on the hook, "my father told me about it when I was in my third year. He told me that this location is to remain a secret, and is only passed on to one family or bloodline at any given time. 'It is to be reserved for Slytherin's purest followers,' he'd say."

"Salazar'd likely roll in his grave if he realized you brought a 'mudblood' here," Hermione said with a toying smile.

"It's too bad he's long dead," Draco responded with a shrug as he stepped forward, his heels clicking against the shiny black marble tile that adorned the ground. He circled around the deep pool which Hermione now noticed was bubbling like a hot spring. She observed that instead of a steady dip in the ground to allow for the pool, the tiled floor gradually inclined like a small hill. At the very top was several feet of marble that leveled-off to hug the window, and allowed ample room to sit and gaze out into the endless aquatic abyss. It was here that Draco kicked off his shoes and gracefully sat down, cross-legged. The light from above the lake cast swaying shadows that danced on Draco's face as he sat back and enjoyed the peaceful view.

Hermione joined him and reached to peel off her shoes. As her bare feet hit the black tile, it felt warm against her skin as if it had been heated for her. She slipped down to sit next to him as they faced the wide-open window which looked into the lake. Through the deep waters they could see the swinging tentacles of the Giant Squid across them.

Hermione pressed her head against his shoulder and turned to look at him.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked, slight concern betrayed in her tone.

"I'm alive," he responded with a half-hearted shrug before reaching to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"You look so tired," Hermione said tenderly, her gaze lingering on the large dark circles under his eyes and the sallowness of his cheekbones.

"It's been quite the year," he replied with a sigh. "I've wanted to tell you," he hesitated, a lump developing in his throat as he attempted to find the words to tell her how he felt, but all he could come up with was how he was, in fact, exactly what she had always feared; the villain to her story, and the most deceitful man.

"I'm sorry for what happened between you and Harry," Hermione whispered softly. She could see the faint scar on his face that ran from his forehead down to his jawline, it had nearly faded since that evening in the Hospital Wing. "I can't imagine what you went through."

"That's been the least of my worries," he breathed. "I've been under immense pressure, and having to lay there in the hospital wing for days... all I did was think," Draco murmured as she listened intently, her forehead creasing in concentration while she studied his features. "Since my father's imprisonment, since he has been gone I have been forced to be someone I'm not ready to be. Granger, I'm scared it will be the end of me. I can't do it anymore, I can't be the person that my father has always wanted me to be. I'm going to crumble under the pressure-" his words ran dry. His throat closed up as he felt himself losing control of the emotionless visage he thought he had mastered long ago. Perhaps this was better; perhaps it was ideal for him to lose all semblance of his past self and perhaps he had to, for once in his adult life, become human. "I don't want to do the things that I - I have to do," he whispered, "but if I don't..." Dark images flashed in his mind: his mother punished, perhaps tortured, himself murdered at the hands of the Dark Lord of his betrayal. "Everything my family has worked for will be destroyed," he continued, his voice weak with emotional exhaustion, "because I chose to disobey and rebel. I don't see a way out of this; there's no hope for me…"

"That's not true," she spoke in a small voice, as if fighting through the dark cloud that he had projected over them. "I don't know what it is that you're going through, but of course you have hope, Draco. I don't believe that at all."

Poor, naive girl, he thought to himself. He couldn't help but feel entirely alone, even with her. How could he expect her to understand? She, after all, had known success and glory. From their first year she had always persevered, and any challenge or hardship had been won over with the help of her friends. But who did he have? What friends would stand against him and help him?

"Listen," she said more firmly, as if noticing that he had withdrawn into himself, "I know you feel alone. I feel like you've been withering away, and I'm grateful for the few moments you light up when we're together. But you aren't alone, and you aren't hopeless. Whatever your father's friends want you to do, whatever job you have once you graduate, you can fight it _and_ them. Who knows what happens by that point any way, there are many people fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I just refuse to believe that there is no hope. I felt that way once, but I've found that something always tips in the favor of good. And you want to be _good_."

Hermione's hopeful idealism almost irritated Draco. How could she ever relate to him? "No offense," he started, "but that sounds like a lot of fairy tale thinking. Just because you and your friends have gotten lucky a few times doesn't mean that there's some magical force that will help me get out of all my problems."

Hermione arched a brow fiercely.

"Actually," she retorted, "do you remember second year when all those rumors were circulating that you were the heir of Slytherin, and you had caused so many of the muggle borns to be nearly killed?" He nodded in acknowledgement, the painful memory of having been so outwardly cruel toward her embarrassed him. "I was scared, but I didn't lose hope. I remember scouring the library day after day trying to figure out what it was that was attacking the school. It was the first time that something of this magnitude had happened at Hogwarts, according to all of the historical tomes I'd read, and it was a complete mystery."

"Anyway," she continued, "I had scoured the library reading book after book and I couldn't find anything at all, I had even convinced Madame Pince to allow me to search the restricted section and I still couldn't find anything. The day that I got petrified, I was searching the library as usual, and as I was about to pack my bags to head to class, I noticed that there was a page torn out of a book that I had never heard of, shoved into the bottom of my bookbag. Do you know what that page was about? Basilisks. I had no idea how it got there, I had never torn a page out of a book. If it wasn't for that page, I wouldn't have known to look down the corridors through a mirror and I would have likely died..."

Draco shivered at the memory of her petrified body, and ran a warm hand down her arms, squeezing her closer to him.

"Granger," he murmured, and though Hermione couldn't see his expression she could sense the air of hopelessness fade as he touched her affectionately. "I hate to break it to you," he said into her hair, "but that wasn't magic."

"What do you mean?" she responded with a trace of irritation. "How on earth would you know that?"

"Because," he continued, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth, "I'm the one who put that page in your book bag."

He could feel her body tense before she pulled away entirely, turning to face him head on, her gaze intense and searching as she attempted to understand his words.

"It's true," he nodded, "at the start of our second year I knew that father was planning on releasing some kind of horrid monster from the Chamber, and I had heard him talk about the great snake of Slytherin or something like that. I figured he'd be mad to try and release a monster in Hogwarts, especially with Dumbledore here, but I decided to do some reading and figure out what exactly he was going to release." Hermione's mouth was slightly open as she listened intently, her gaze unflinching as he spoke.

"It was actually the day that we ran into you and the Weasley lot in Flourish and Blotts," Draco continued, "when Lockhart was signing his books. I had torn a page from one of the beastiary books and kept it for myself to read. When people started actually getting hurt in Hogwarts I was a bit conflicted: even though at the time I was fine with the Dark Lord coming back," the thought made his stomach churn as he said it, "I was innocent and naive and really didn't feel like having Hogwarts close down. I didn't love the place, but I liked my friends and playing Quidditch, so I decided to do something about it. I left that page in your book bag because I knew you were smart and you'd find a way to fix the problem because that's what you did. I probably should have thought it through a bit more, but it all worked out in the end if you ask me."

Draco's last words lingered in the air for a moment. Hermione had not moved at all as her mind processed the information he had presented. He awkwardly shifted his weight backward to lean into his elbows as he looked out toward the lake, his gaze following a large lone fish swimming in front of them.

" _You_ did that?" Hermione finally spoke with some accusation. " _You_ put the page in my book bag?"

Draco nodded apologetically as he met her eyes. "Look I probably shouldn't have told you. I didn't mean to ruin your theory about good always ultimately beating evil or anything, I just thought -"

" _No_ , Draco," she interrupted firmly. "I don't care about my theory, I was just trying to cheer you up anyway. You just told me that in the second year you saved my life. You had a choice to let bad things happen to good people and you decided to fight that, even if it was your father's doing that you were going against." Her words were cutting through him like a scalding prod, penetrating into his iron-clad reserve. He leaned forward toward her again as she continued to speak manically. "You _chose_ to be good, even when I thought you hated me and everything I stood for, you decided to save my life and the lives of many others. You were good, even in the second year. This whole time I thought you were a self-centered brat who always got what he wanted, but you did something good and meaningful. If I knew that long ago, Draco, I would have never been so dismissive of you."

The pointed nose, the arched forehead, and the ice cold stare of Draco Malfoy had melted into a man who had lost all his defenses. The heavy tenseness that he had carried around him all year, like a burden, had released and he looked at her head-on like a man who had found sanctuary after persecution. He leaned forward into her and rested his forehead on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against him again, her warmth nourishing any wounds he had cast on himself; as if she was his sole source of comfort and safety. He had asked himself over and over again for the past three or four years whether he was truly evil, truly capable of committing evil deeds in the name of loyalty and "purity". When he had discovered that he may be too weak or too empathetic to ever murder someone who didn't deserve it, Draco felt like a failure. The entire life that he, his father, his family had built for him, had all of a sudden made him feel like an imposter. He had been pretending to be a man he wasn't capable of ever becoming. And now he was here, before a woman who had known him as the hateful, small-minded monster, and she still showed her love to him in spite of it all.

"Draco," she spoke softly, as if afraid to rouse him too quickly. Her hand had been running through his pale hair as he held her. "Come, lay with me," she whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He obeyed her desire, as they both readjusted their bodies to lay on the warm floor. Above head, Draco could see the surface of the lake as the moon glistened through the rippling water, its light causing a soft halo to shine beneath the surface.

Hermione turned to face him, her head rested against his chest as she pressed small, soft kisses over the hollow of his throat, his fingers intertwining in her curls as he held her. Hermione looked up at him, studying his face. He had closed his eyes, his breathing had deepened. He looked softer and younger now, laying there with her. The hard lines of his forehead softened into supple skin, his intensity unraveled to present him in his most human, fragile state.

Hermione had nearly forgotten that she was staring at him, studying his features and breathing at the rate that he was, when he peaked an eye open and looked at her watching him. An amused smile formed on his lips.

"You're staring, Granger," he stated the obvious. Hermione attempted to shrug despite her position and he gazed down at her, reaching to lift up her chin as he leaned and pressed a soft, brief kiss on her lips. "I forget who I am when I'm with you, you know that?" he murmured against her mouth, pressing another kiss which Hermione reciprocated happily. "You're everything I want and exactly what I need, Granger," he whispered against her lips. Despite thoroughly enjoying his declarations, Hermione's heart ached at the words as gratitude overwhelmed her.

"I missed you," she whispered softly. The words melted in to Draco's mind as he looked up at the girl before him, her warm chocolate eyes glistening with the threat of tears. Without the need for words, Draco reached up and pressed a deep, firm kiss onto her lips. His hands instinctively reached to squeeze her hips, pulling her closer to him until their bodies were nearly united. His other arm cradled her head, the kiss taking a life of its own. Passion led the two as sparks of desire coursed through them and between them. Hermione felt delirious. Never had she anticipated finding a man who was so attuned to her body, and capable of meeting her level of fiery passion; yet here she was, drowning in the depths of physical ecstasy and they were only _kissing_. She felt like her entire body ached as he kissed her, needing a sort of release she couldn't even imagine possible.

Draco sucked on her lower lip and trapped it between his teeth causing Hermione to squirm against him. He released her and positioned his arms under her hips where he hoisted her up and on top of him. Hermione could feel his entire body under her now. Whatever arousal he had managed to hide every time they kissed was entirely noticeable now under Hermione's weight; she felt the thick, swollen bulge trapped in dark pants beneath her and it caused her to shiver harshly knowing she was responsible for it. He held her still, as if afraid of what would happen if she moved against his hips. On top of him, Hermione felt a playful surge of power. She gently pulled his hands away from her hips, holding his wrists in hers in the same fashion that he had done to her on the evening of their detention. Testing, carefully watching his reaction, Hermione pressed her hips down and moved her body to grind against him.

"Don't," Draco hissed, releasing a slow exhale as if pacing himself. Hermione smirked and pressed into him again, grinding her hips in a more deliberate circular motion. She wasn't immune to the effects of the motion as it caused a rumble of pleasure to grow in the pit of her stomach, a soft moan escaping her lips. From where he lay, he could see the dusty rose blush forming in her cheeks as heat rushed in her body, her lips slightly parted, eye lids shut as she relished in the sensations. "Granger," he spoke firmly, though his voice deceived him as it came out hoarse and breathy. Her lashes fluttered open as her gaze met his. "Release me," he murmured, more softly. Hermione had forgotten that she had his trapped wrists in her hands, holding them firmly in order to prevent him from reclaiming control over her body. Hermione paused as she considered her options.

"What if I don't?" she spoke with a mischievous smile. He wasn't used to seeing her as a teasing vixen, but Draco was the first to acknowledge that it did something to him that he had never felt before. He was both allured by her power and drawn to the challenge of conquering her. Although Draco could have easily physically overpowered her and forced himself free from her clutches, he decided to be fair and not use his physical strength against her yet.

"You want to play this game, do you?" his silver gaze was unyielding in its intensity, and as Hermione was at the receiving end of the look it forced a shiver to trickle down her spine. For a moment, Hermione felt nervous but it was fleeting as she held his hands tighter together with a nod and buckled her knees together to squeeze her body against his.

He almost regretted his decision as he watched the feisty lioness on top of him, but a decision had been made. Without providing her another opportunity to use his helpless body beneath her, Draco bucked his hips sharply upward, catching Hermione by surprise. In response to being bounced off of him, Hermione released her hands in order to catch herself and prevent her fall. Anticipating her movement, Draco swiftly caught her and placed her on the ground next to him, climbing on top of her. Hermione scowled at him as he chuckled, slowly and deliberately taking each of her hands from her side to pin them next to her head, her wrists pressed into the floor to give her a taste of what it was like to be the trapped and helpless victim.

Draco's lips immediately found their way to her neck, pressing soft and firm kisses over her supple skin. "I was having fun," Hermione half-whispered, the faintest trace of a pout in her voice.

"Oh, you're not having fun now?" he asked with a smirk, pressing his hips hard into her as she gasped sharply at the feel of his body. "Mhmm.." he responded. He pressed kisses lower down her chest, his lips grazing the subtle cleavage that peaked against the hem of her white blouse. He could feel her arching her back beneath him.

Hermione was dizzy. His kisses, his touch, and his silky, charismatic voice caused her mind to go foggy and her body to feel like every nerve was alert and firing. His fingers squeezed around her wrists as they held her helplessly against the ground, his lips traveling south which induced nervous butterflies to flutter in her belly. No boy, well _man_ , had ever been allowed to venture beyond simple snogging. Even Krum, the man who was used to getting his way with women, didn't push too hard when he was met with a resolute 'no' from her. And yet, here, pinned against Draco Malfoy, Hermione's back arched as if begging for him without any apprehension.

"What do you want?" the breathy voice of Draco Malfoy asked as he released one of her wrists and reached to affectionately smooth away her hair which had begun to stubbornly stick to the tiny dew-like droplets of sweat that were forming on her forehead. Hermione's mind, deliriously blank, did not know how to answer that question, and more importantly she knew that her body and brain may have different answers for him. Upon her hesitation to his question, Draco released her other wrist and looked at her earnestly, his demeanor quickly alternating to a serious tone.

Without a response, and with her wrists now free from his grip, Hermione reached up to pull him by the back of his neck down into a kiss. Their lips collided, and with her silent and eager permission his hands explored her frame. A hand hovered hesitantly over her breasts, but the fingers found their confidence as Hermione arched her back again in the midst of the kiss. His fingers delicately unfastened two buttons from her white blouse, and Draco's lips instinctively moved down as he planted kisses on her jaw, collarbone, neck and finally trailed over the soft flesh that was the top of her breast. He noticed that she had worn a nearly sheer bra; it was a warm pink in color, contrasting just barely with her pale ivory flesh, and the fabric was made of an elegant lace which surprised Draco as he never expected her to wear such feminine undergarments.

Admiring the sight before him, Draco ran a long finger over the curve of her breast where the bra ended and her skin began. The sensation caused Hermione to release a soft, contented sigh as her nipples hardened beneath the sheer yet obtrusive fabric of the bra. He could listen to the sound forever, but he felt his instinctive self-control kick in as he clenched his jaw.

"Fuck," he whispered, admiring the vision beneath him as her lashes fluttered open, her face entirely entranced by his every movement, "Granger, you're driving me mad."

Hermione's lips curled in a soft smile, her gaze wandering upwards to the night sky reflectively. "I'm sorry," she apologized playfully, her smile growing, "how could I make it up to you?"

Draco sighed with frustration and lowered himself down onto the heated floor next to her, his arm draping over her body, hand covering the exposed skin of her chest as his thumb ran mindlessly over the curves of her skin. "That's easy," he responded, reaching to press a soft kiss onto her shoulder, "You could promise to be mine."

His words lingered in the open air as Hermione turned to look at him. His usual cold gaze was now burning with hunger and passion. Although he was a master at betraying nothing, Hermione could feel his tone shift as he studied her reaction.

"What do you mean, Draco?" Hermione asked, sitting up onto her elbows.

"I mean," he responded, also sitting up to face her at eye level, "I want you. I think I've made that clear, but I don't just want a part of you - stolen moments here and there - I want you to be mine. I don't want anyone else to have you."

Draco's thumb traced Hermione's jaw as he spoke, cupping her face.

"I've thought about it quite a bit," he continued, "and I know it would be very difficult for you to be with someone who you can't exactly introduce to your friends and family, but I can't help it. I want you to be mine, _only_ mine. I don't want to think about you being with anyone else or snogging someone other than me. Picturing it makes me sick to my stomach," Draco ran a hand through his hair to recuperate from the image, "and I hate that I've become a jealous person but with you, Granger, all bets are off. I don't even recognize myself when I'm with you, and I'm glad for it; you make me better. But you really do drive me mad," Draco released a shaky sigh, the hot breath hitting Hermione's cool skin, "I want you all to myself."

The words felt heavy to Hermione, as if each declaration had released a weight from his shoulders and placed them onto hers. There was silence for a moment, where the only sounds were that of the bubbling pool nearby.

It's not as if she hadn't considered the idea of dating Draco Malfoy; every moment spent apart from him felt like a wasted one, and with every passing day Hermione grew to crave him more and more. No, she wanted him. But something about his intensity gave her pause. She didn't know what it was about the way he spoke of her, as if she was his salvation and the cure to all his maladies, but Hermione felt the same way toward him. And _that_ scared her. Having always been the type to calculate, analyze, and decipher everything, her certainty is what made Hermione nervous.

"Draco," she started.

"Listen," he cut in, "I want you to think about it, you don't need to give me an answer right away; this isn't a small thing I'm asking of you. While I was in the hospital, all I could think about was getting back to you. It really made me realize where my priorities are, and I'd regret not telling you how much I bloody need you, Granger. Gods," he paused and took a deep sigh, " I didn't mean for this to get so heavy, I wanted to bring you here so we could both relax after all that drama with Potter."

Hermione nodded softly, a bit overwhelmed from his outburst as Draco looked around for words, though his gaze landed on the bubbling pool below.

"Let's swim," he announced, "the pool is quite magical, I think you'll love it."

Hermione's gaze drifted to the bubbling pool below them. It was long and round, the water appeared black but Hermione recognized it may very well be a trick of the tile. On the side of the pool were several long silver faucets, and toward the other end the pool pressed directly into the window, providing an infinity-view into the lake.

Without another word, Hermione stood up and walked away. Draco's heart curled into a knot when he thought she was leaving him, but she stopped short of the wall to reach into her book bag. Hermione bent sideways, reaching all the way to her shoulder as she rummaged through the bag and when she pulled her hand out she was holding two articles of clothing.

"I knew this would come in handy some day," she smiled as she lifted the clothing to view, and revealed a crimson two-piece bathing suit.

»»-¤-««


	12. XII: Ace of Cups

**Rated M:** Strong Warning. Dirty writing is afoot.

If you are sensitive to sexy, _dominant_ men, then please heed my warning and turn back.

Otherwise, enjoy.

»»-¤-««

XII: **Ace of Cups**

"Is there anything that bag doesn't hold?" Draco asked, his lips curled into a playful smile. Draco's fingers were wrapped around a large silver handle which he turned clockwise, until the large faucet which loomed over the pool began to release an iridescent purple fluid. In a thin stream, it dripped into the still, glistening basin, causing the water to sparkle slightly as if it were made of liquid crystals. It released a subtle fragrance of lavender and jasmine which began to fill the room.

"Hm," Hermione pondered as she began to unbutton her white blouse, hidden from view behind the large folding curtain, "I don't think I have a towel in my bag."

"D'you see that chest behind you?" Draco called to her. Hermione peered over her shoulder where a black leather chest sat on the ground, tucked neatly next to a grey silk ottoman. "There should be some robes in there."

Hermione wiggled into her bathing suit, one she had not been fortunate enough to wear very often given the regular cold weather of Scotland. As she lifted the heavy lid of the chest, she opted for a simple black velvet robe with silver stitching. For Draco, she picked a forest green silk robe which she tucked under her arm as she stepped out from behind the folding curtain, clad in the thick robe.

"You're still completely dressed," she said, her tone accusatory as she saw Draco, still in his full Slytherin garb, wrestling a large silver handle.

He looked up at her, a strand of hair having fallen haphazardly before his eyes which he huffed away. "I'm trying to get the water perfect for you, princess," he mocked, to which Hermione rolled her eyes as he approached. "And I think," he said, squatting down to reach the water with his fingertips, "it's nearly there."

The water was now bubbling with ferocity and appeared lustrous to Hermione's eyes. There was a thin layer of steam rising from the top of the pool, and as Hermione approached it she could feel the heat emanating upwards. Draco reached over and took the silk robe from her arm and placed it near the steps of the pool. He glanced down and began to unbutton his shirt, popping open each button one at a time. His broad shoulders and lithe frame flooded Hermione's sight while a blush crawled into her cheeks. She averted her gaze, focusing intently on the underwater bubbles which rose unceasingly.

It only took a moment for Draco to undress down to his trunks before he stepped toward the pool and lowered his foot down into the glistening water below. The water felt wonderful to his touch, warm but not scalding hot. He stepped down two more steps before turning to face her. He extended a hand and a soft smile.

"Coming?" he said. Hermione's cheeks appeared rosy and she did not seem to want to meet his eyes. She took a step toward him and looked down, her fingers nervously reaching to unfasten her belt. "Here," he spoke softly, his voice as fluid as the water behind him.

He rose out of the pool and stood before her, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into him while his other hand reached to delicately undo her belt which fell to her sides. His fingers ran down the opening of the robe, slowly peeling the fabric off of her before he slipped it off of her shoulders and dropped it to the floor behind her. His gaze never wavered from her face as his palm slowly caressed the skin of her arm, rising upward to her shoulder and back down again toward her wrist. He could feel the goosebumps forming on her flesh. With a soft smile on his lips, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before taking her hand in his and guiding her into the pool.

"Oh, that feels perfect," she acknowledged as she stepped in until her feet met the bottom of the pool. The steam rose as they walked toward the center of the pool, swirling around them like wisps.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," he said and pulled away from her, gently striding toward the other end of the pool where the faucets were. Underneath the middle faucet, Draco grasped a rope that was connected to the tile wall, and tugged gently. As he did, Hermione saw that water had begun to flow from near the window where they had previously been sitting. It was slow at first, but within a few moments the water began to pour down and cascaded into a small waterfall that spilled into the bubbling pool.

"Sit here," Draco requested, motioning near the waterfall. Hermione made her way to him, moving slowly as the water pulled against her. She sat where he guided, directly beneath the waterfall, and Draco reached over to press her shoulders back so the water spilled over them, down to her breasts, and over her stomach. Hermione's eyes fell shut as she leaned back into it. The water that poured down on her was warmer than that of the pool, and it produced a calming, therapeutic sensation as it spilled over her shoulders. Hermione inhaled deeply, the floral scent of the water and the warm steam filling her senses.

"It's nice here, isn't it?" Draco asked.

"Mm," Hermione responded, tilting her head back and letting her muscles ease, "I could fall asleep."

"Have you been sleeping alright?" Draco asked, turning to look at her, curiosity apparent in his tone. "I wasn't going to ask, but..." He lifted his hand and ran his thumb over the bottom of Hermione's eyes, tracing the dark circles that had developed after several nights of turbulent sleep. Hermione's brows knit in irritation before she recanted to Draco what she had been enduring from Lavender and Parvati for the last several nights.

"They're _what_?" Draco asked, unsuccessful in stifling his anger.

"Don't worry," Hermione brushed off, "I've already cast a few hexes on them as vengeance."

"Don't they know who they're messing with?" Draco asked, indignantly.

Hermione shrugged. "Perhaps to them I'm harmless," she responded, "though I've been thinking of turning Lavender's hair green. I bet that would teach her to leave me alone."

"They deserve worse, you know," Draco glowered, as though stating the obvious, and Hermione who had been unconcerned up to this point in their conversation peered over at Draco. Upon seeing his intense features, she sat up and shook her head adamantly.

"Draco, it's fine," she assured, "I didn't tell you so you could add them to your hit list. I have it under control."

"Alright," Draco said quietly, though his jaw stayed clenched and his forehead creased.

"I'm serious!" Hermione urged, grabbing Draco by shoulder and giving him a gentle shake, "I thought we were here to _relax_ , aren't we?"

"I did say that," Draco relented as he ran his fingertips over Hermione's arm absentmindedly bridging the gap between the two with his touch.

Her gaze wandered over Draco who stood before her. As he stood there, shirtless and so close to her, Hermione couldn't help but stare at the long, thin silver scars that adorned his torso. It looked as though he had been whipped to the point that his flesh had torn open and had barely healed. She reached up and ran her index finger over one of the scars which ran down from his clavicle down over his heart and stopped at the top of his ribcage. There was a white bandage on his side and gauze wrapped tightly around his forearm - no doubt patches of skin still healing from the altercation with Harry. After she took note of each scar, her eyes wandered over the rest of him as he watched her with a soft amused smile.

His shoulders appeared incredibly broad as they stood before her now, bare and unencumbered by the weight of a heavy black school cloak. His chest appeared chiseled with well-defined pectoral muscles, but the signs of under-eating were apparent to her as she saw his hipbones loosely holding onto his trunks.

Hermione ran her finger down his chest, over his stomach where there was a slight ridge between his abs. Her fingers stopped once they reached fabric.

"See anything you like?" Draco toyed, as Hermione looked up to meet his gaze.

"Will these fade?" she asked, reaching up to drag her finger over the scar once more. Draco shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm not sure. Are they ghastly?" In response, Hermione rose to her feet and leaned forward to pressed her lips against one of the scars which started at his throat and ended under his left arm. There she planted a soft kiss, and ran a trail of small but purposeful kisses until she reached its end.

"No," she murmured against his skin. She ran her lips over his chest once more, on another marking that graced his body. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her palms against his back where she could feel the ridges and grooves of his shoulder blades and the muscular curvature of his spine. After finishing her row of kisses she looked up at him, pressing her chin against his chest. "Nothing about you is ghastly, Draco," she said, her voice tender.

That spark, the intense passionate fire that Hermione had seen in Draco's eyes so many times before ignited again at her words. He looked down at her for several beats, appreciating her features and admiring her touch before he leaned forward, dipping his head to draw closer to hers, and pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips. His hand cupped the back of her neck and gently lifted her head up to meet him as he pressed another, firmer yet still ever-so-gentle kiss. He wanted to be careful with her. Though she was no fragile little girl, her worth to him made him want to cherish her.

Hermione, however, did not seem to pay any mind to being careful. As Draco pressed soft, gentle kisses to her lips, she pressed into him, closing the distance between them as her body leaned into his. Their skin, hot, wet, and glistening, pressed together. It was she that yearned to deepen the kiss as she parted her lips and sought his tongue with hunger, which he eagerly reciprocated. Her hands wrapped around his waist where she held him tightly against her. Despite Hermione cognitively understanding that Draco was a grown-up man, seeing him broad and chiseled before her reminded her of just how grown up he had become. He felt so large and strong against her now. Despite not knowing why, Hermione felt a sense of urgency in her desire.

"This is dangerous," she whispered into his lips before he pulled away.

"Dangerous? Why?" Draco asked with a raised brow, reaching to sweep her hair back behind her shoulders as her throat and collarbone came into view. Her ringlets had come undone from the weight of the water dragging her strands down. Hermione shrugged nervously, anxious of which words to use.

"Because we..." she bit her bottom lip in thought, "we may get carried away."

"Carried away," Draco repeated, "Are you afraid you'll do something you may regret, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione's lips curled in a contemplative frown as she thought about it. "Hm, regret is a heavy word."

"Would you like to leave?" Draco offered, and Hermione noted the lack of emotion in his question. Does he want us to leave?

Hermione paused. She definitely did not want to leave - and yet the precariousness of being in a hot bath with a tall attractive man did not escape her. "No," she said, biting her lip again.

"I'm not worried," Draco responded confidently, "we're both adults, we can handle our, er, urges."

"Oh is that right?" Hermione asked, her brows raised in surprise at his tone as she took a step back, "You're not at all tempted?"

"Tempted to do what, Hermione?" The use of her name disarmed her, and Draco smirked down at her as he ran his palm up her arm and rested on her shoulder where he gave her a soft squeeze. She wasn't sure whether he was toying with her or he was entirely serious in his confidence, but Hermione could not relate to it.

"You know tempted to do what," she said with frustration, "we're both half-naked in a pool, and we can't keep our hands off of each other. You're telling me you aren't at all nervous we might cross a line or something?"

"I know my boundaries," Draco said, his voice soft and silky, "and I know what I am and am not willing to do. I'm not nervous."

"Must be nice to be so certain," Hermione retorted sarcastically, a trace of irritation laced in her words.

Draco shrugged, his casualness taking Hermione aback as she stared at him for a moment indignantly.

"Is that a challenge, then?" she asked, "You think you're so immune to temptation?"

Draco rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Why do you Gryffindors always want to fight?" Hermione pursed her lips at his words. "Not everyone is as impulsive as you lot," he spoke softly. Hermione's jaw dropped as anger began to bubble up insider her at his words, but he persisted. "Brave and chivalrous, but hot-headed and a bit reckless..."

"How dare y-" Hermione began to heatedly protest, but was quickly silenced when within a rapid movement Draco's hand slipped into Hermione's hair where he tightly grabbed a handful of her locks at the base of her head. He pulled her head backward, forcing her face to look up at him. Though the sensation stung slightly, it caused a harsh jolt of pleasure to recoil throughout her body as Hermione gasped audibly, surprised by his sudden move. Hermione felt his knee press between her legs, drawing her legs apart.

Draco leaned forward and pressed his cheek against hers as his free arm wrapped tightly around her waist holding her closely against him to prevent her from falling as she attempted to regain balance. He whispered, his lips barely centimeters away from her ear.

"Is this what you wanted, my lioness?" Draco's voice sounded silken and sweet, his hot breath on her ear caused a long line of shivers to course through her body. "You want to prove yourself, do you? Why are you so scared of losing control, Hermione?" As her legs were spread wider and wider apart by his knee, Hermione felt it press intently between her thighs directly on the spot where neither he, nor any other man, had touched before. She moaned helplessly at the sensation.

"Or," he whispered again, her hair tightly wound around his fingers, "perhaps you're not scared," he pressed his lips against her ear, and gently bit on her earlobe before releasing it, "perhaps you're craving losing all control," as he spoke, he drew his lips over her bare, exposed throat. The skin was soft and pale, and as she stood there helplessly trapped he could feel her pulse, rapid and excited, in her throat and down where he pressed into her. He planted a kiss on her throat, and drew his lips upward. The stubble that had grown on his face from days in the infirmary made Hermione wince as it scratched her sensitive skin, but as he pressed gentle warm kisses the sensation melded from pain to pleasure in the lower realms of her belly.

"Or perhaps you'd like me to take control," he whispered, his lips now hovering over her own where his hot breath graced her skin. He dipped down to press a calculated, soft kiss onto her lips before he drew her lower lip between his teeth and suckled gently on the plump flesh. Draco pulled away, looking down at her as he held her in place.

"Which is it?" he asked, his voice more gruff now, the allusion of calm and collectedness having entirely faded into oblivion. Hunger had begun to grow in the pit of Hermione's stomach as he held her there, her powerlessness only adding to her desire for more.

"All of it," Hermione whispered, a slow, drawling blush gathering in her face to Draco's quiet delight.

His lips found hers yet again, but all manner of gentleness and softness had been thrown out the window. As he held her tightly against him, his lips pressed into hers with intensity and purpose. He released his tight grip on her hair enough to allow her to press into the kiss at her own volition - and she did, eagerly. She moaned into his lips, her chest pressed tightly against his own bare skin as her lips parted and their tongues collided and danced. Hermione's nails dug into Draco's broad back attempting to bring him in closer still.

In response to Hermione's longing, Draco pulled his knee away from between her legs and left its absence known to her body as she yearned for his touch again. It pulsed there, where he had pressed, and it radiated throughout Hermione like an electric spark that didn't know how to stop. She drew her legs together again, squeezing them in an attempt to alleviate the visceral sensation of her need.

Draco tightened his grip around her hair once more and slowly pulled her back, his breath heavy as he growled against her lips. He knew he wanted her just as much, if not infinitely more, than she wanted him. He wanted to devour her, take her, make her entirely his. He wanted to explore every centimeter of her body and drive her to an ecstasy she could not fathom. But he knew there was no fun in rushing the inevitable, and he knew how much he needed her, vastly more than she needed him. And as he held her there, hungry and aching for him as she panted, her lips puffy and pink from the harsh kiss, he tried with all his might to resist his most primal and instinctive urges.

"I want you," Hermione whispered, dazed by his touch, her voice hoarse and breathy. The words struck Draco in the heart with a pang, and rendered him defenseless. His grip around her hair loosened completely and dropped to her back.

"You what?"

"I want you," Hermione repeated, firmly. She moved her hands to rest on his chest where they rose and fell with each breath.

"Turn around, Granger," he directed, and pointed over to a window a few feet away, "and put your hands on that wall above your head."

Much to Draco's surprise, Hermione obeyed his blatant command. As she walked over to the window, the steam from the pool drew upward and cast a blurry fog around her torso. For a brief moment, Draco's breath was caught in his throat as Hermione appeared as though a siren, her fair skin, long wet waves, and pink lips and cheeks would have drawn him out of the comfort of familiarity into his own demise. Hermione pressed her palms up against the window, which felt cold to her touch, and looked back at Draco who watched her carefully. His gaze had grown steely and impenetrable as he looked over her.

"Eyes forward," he directed, and she obeyed again. Hermione stared forward toward the window that peered into the inside of the Black Lake, though she couldn't care less as to its inhabitants or its events at this time. Draco slowly walked toward her, the water flowing past him to accommodate his movements. He stopped, standing directly behind her, careful not to press his body against her. Draco ran his palms over her extended arms, reaching to place one hand over her wrists to keep her in place.

With his free hand, Draco ran his fingers from the top of her back where her shoulder blades met, downwards. He slowly dragged his fingertips over her back, down the small of her spine, to her bottom. There, his fingers drifted downward where they swept over the backs of her thighs. They slipped between her legs which were pressed tightly together, and he pried them apart, pulling her left leg several inches away from her right.

With her legs pried apart and exposed, hot water from the pool rushed back to that throbbing, pulsing spot that Hermione had been trying so desperately to quell. She released a shaky exhale and arched her back eagerly. Draco's fingers continued to wander as he drew his nails up her thighs. When they reached her bottom he cupped her cheek and squeezed it, enjoying the sensation of its soft plumpness in his hand. He reached to squeeze the other firmly, his nails digging into her soft flesh, before slipping his fingers under her swimsuit. He pulled the fabric up, causing it to bunch up between her cheeks. Hermione cried out helplessly as he pulled up harder, adding pressure to where she wanted it most, her face growing hot and red as feelings of exposure and vulnerability rushed over her.

"You think you want me, Granger?" Draco whispered. He slipped behind her, his legs pressing into hers though he purposefully kept several inches between his hips and her backside. His hand drew upward, slowly running over her belly which was soft to the touch. His fingers continued their journey, dragging over the curve of her ribcage before they reached the cloth of her top bathing suit.

"Tell me how you want me," he ordered, his fingers toying with the fabric as he drew it downwards painstakingly slowly.

Hermione's breath was caught in her throat. Her cheeks were burning with fire from a mixture of embarrassment and shyness as the blond Slytherin played with her body as though it were his toy. Despite it all, Hermione wanted nothing more than to give into it wholeheartedly.

"I w-want you," Hermione breathed shakily, her words almost inaudible due to her embarrassment, "s-sexually."

"Tell me how, Hermione," he commanded.

"I want you in-inside me," she whispered. She wanted to die of embarrassment, but then she heard him groan at her words and the sound of it caused a rush of pleasure to sear through her.

His fingers gripped her waist and squeezed. It took everything in him to not tear her clothing off and fill her right then and there. He didn't know how he could resist her, though he was trying with every part of himself.

"Granger," he growled, taking a heavy breath. "I want that too," he said, attempting to steady his breathing and reclaim his voice. "Fuck," he whispered, "I want that so much, but..."

But. In that moment, Hermione loathed the word.

Despite it, Draco's fingers continued to wander. He reached up, gently tracing the fabric of her bathing suit, his fingertip softly grazing the round flesh of her cleavage before he, to her surprise, slipped his fingers underneath and cupped her breast. It fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, and his thumb quickly found her nipple which was already hard and swollen from her arousal. He could feel his mouth salivate as he envisioned what it looked like, what she would look like bare without all these useless articles of clothing. With his thumb and index finger, he gently rolled her nipple and gave it a slight pinch, causing her to moan. He released it as his fingers grasped her full breast and squeezed possessively. Hermione's back arched in response, drawing dangerously close to him.

"But," Draco repeated as Hermione groaned in protest at the word, "you don't belong to me."

Hermione frowned in confusion, her head a dazed fog from her arousal. What more could she have done up until this point to prove that she belonged to him?

"Your mind," Draco continued, his fingers reaching Hermione's other breast which he toyed with, pinching and drawing circles around her nipple as it caused her to moan in a senseless state of delirium, "may belong to me." Hermione's wrists tugged against his grip as he held her in place, trapped against the window. He was eating away at her defenses, drawing her helpless and eager for his body to fulfill her needs.

"Your body," he whispered. His fingers released her breast and drew downward over her belly to where her bottom bathing suit hugged her hips. Draco pressed his palm onto her stomach and dragged down until it reached her pelvis, just inches away from where she was throbbing the most, pulses of pleasure and need radiating there. He pressed down, forcing her pelvis backward, arching her back more as her hips finally pressed tightly against his. Hermione gasped, loudly and helplessly, as she felt him hard as stone pressing against her. He drew her in, pressing her pelvis backward as he held her in place, forcing his hardened bulge to grind painfully and pleasurably over her pulsing, throbbing, hungry sex. He was so close to fulfilling her need, but two articles of clothing stood in their way. "Your body," he repeated, groaning as he spoke the words, "may want me. But..."

Hermione whimpered helplessly at that word again. His teasing was drawing her mad. Her body yearned for him so much that it was beginning to hurt. Her mind had grown fuzzy and her skin felt raw, it felt as though all of the blood in her body had gathered at the pit of her belly where it pulsed between her legs.

"Draco," she pleaded in a ragged whisper, arching her hips backward to draw him in.

"No," he responded, resolute, though his body felt as eager as hers. Though he spoke the words, Draco continued to press against her, grinding into her hot flesh. He felt as though he may explode. Worse yet, he desperately wanted to tear their meager clothing off and take her in that moment. It would be so easy...

Every muscle in his body was tense and tight. His hand moved away from her pelvis and moved to her hips where he gripped tightly, his fingertips creating indentations in her flesh, holding her in place to prevent her from grinding too harshly lest he lose all control. He slowly drew his hips backward, holding her safely a few inches away from him. For a moment all that could be heard was their hard, shallow breathing and the sound of rushing water as the waterfall spilled into the pool.

"I want all of you, Granger," he said finally, his voice breathy and hoarse. "Mind, body, heart. I want you all to myself, do you understand? Please believe me, I want to do terrible, unforgettable things to you right now..." He exhaled slowly. "But I don't just want your body, I want all of you. I want to know you want me the same way; I want to fall in l-" The words were caught in his throat. Try as he might, he couldn't finish the sentence as he swallowed hard. His body was shaking, and he was grateful he was holding her there as he balanced himself.

"Let go of me, Draco," she requested in a soft whisper. He relented, releasing the grip on her wrists. Hermione moved her fingers as blood came rushing back to them before she steadied herself. Despite her delirium and daze from a heavy dose of arousal, Draco's unspoken words felt heavier to her than any of the sexual tension she had felt. She slowly rose up, her hips pulling away from his as water filled its gap. The warm water felt cooler to her than his skin had, and she slowly turned around to face him.

As she turned to look at him, she saw that she had not been the only one subjected to vulnerability that evening. He stood there before her, his eyes ablaze with passion, his heart raw and open and pleading for her. She wrapped her arms around him and stepped into him again, this time for a warm embrace as she held him tightly in a hug. Her heart ached for him, the man who seemed so certain in himself yet so oblivious to what he already possessed. What more could Hermione have done to prove that she was his, entirely and openly?

"I understand, Draco," she murmured into his chest. Draco nodded quietly and pulled away, releasing her from the hug. He could feel how warm she had gotten, her skin hot to the touch. With two gentle strides, he reached and twisted the large silver faucet handle, causing the water to drop several degrees as cool water began to cascade down into the pool. Hermione sighed in relief as she stepped onto the ledge and laid back onto the tile hill where the water was coursing downward. The cold water felt like a godsend to her as it brought her back down to earth and extinguished some of the passion and need that lingered in her limbs.

Draco joined her, laying on his stomach. He reached to cup some of the cool water and dribbled it onto her exposed midriff. She sighed contentedly.

"Draco," she spoke softly after a quiet lingering moment, "say I accept your proposal," she paused, her brows knit in contemplation, "would that mean you'd also be mine?"

Though to Hermione her question seemed simple, she was surprised when he began to shake with laugher. She quirked her head, confused by his response.

"Gods, Granger, you really have no idea," he responded. Though his eyes twinkled with amusement, they seared into hers with intensity. "You are my only temptation. It didn't even occur to me that I would have to pronounce my loyalty to you. You've brightened my life and all I bloody think about now is you. I already am entirely yours."

Hermione's skin raised as goosebumps prickled over her arms at his words. Had it not been for the sound of her heart beating hard in her chest and the water streaming over her, it would have been a long moment of silence for her as she processed his words.

"Okay," she whispered, the sound of her voice interrupted the symphony of silence, "You aren't proposing that we come out as a couple, are you? I'm not ready to tell anyone. I don't think Harry or Ron would be happy about it, and I don't want to give them a reason to be distracted from their classes."

Draco shook his head. Though he wasn't particularly invested in Harry Potter or Ron Weasley's academic success, he certainly did not want the headache of dealing with their hostility and backlash.

"Of course not," he said.

"Alright then, I accept," she responded simply, "we are officially a couple."

Draco blinked, unsure of how to respond.

"What?" she asked.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he murmured, "at least not yet."

"Why not?" she answered assertively, her abdomen tensing as she rose to sit up. Her fingers lay spread on her sides, water crashing against them in small waves. "You should have known; I nearly had a panic attack when I found out you were hurt and in the hospital wing. And," her gaze dropped to her lap, "I think about you a lot as well. It's difficult being apart from you, not knowing when I can see you again."

"That will change," he assured, reaching over to take her hand in his. She nodded with a soft smile.

"I've been hoping you'd ask me," she continued, "I've had an answer for you for several days."

Draco pressed a firm kiss onto her hand and laid it against his cheek.

"Though my first order as your girlfriend is that you cannot tease me to kingdom come again." Hermione pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her grin and Draco chuckled.

"Is that so? I don't think I can abide by that rule, Miss Granger," he responded, his voice silken. She quirked a brow.

"Hm, then I suppose you'll have to pay for that..." she reached over and ran her fingertips over his back. Little droplets of water had collected between his shoulder blades and dripped down to the small of his back. Her fingertips traced over his broad shoulders. "I should get to bed, Draco," she whispered softly before pressing a soft kiss onto his shoulder.

"I'll need you to pass my robe to me," Draco responded and Hermione nodded, walking around the pool to fetch it. As he rose up and reached for the robe, Hermione observed the large bulge that remained erect in his trunks. He wrapped the robe around his body in a hurry.

"Still?" she asked in awe.

"Granger, I'll be lucky if it ever goes down. Let's get you to bed before it gets the better of me."

Draco accompanied Hermione back to the staircase near the potions classroom without any incidents, with the exception of dark blur at the end of the hallway which did not appear distinguishable to Draco's tired eyes. He shrugged it off as likely being Mrs. Norris looking for vermin to hunt in the dark, dusty dungeon corridors. As he entered the Slytherin boy's dormitories, Draco fell back into his bed and sighed. His body felt like it was pulsing in rhythm to his heartbeat, and his muscles ached and tensed. He could have reassured Hermione that he would never tease her like that again, as he likely bore the brunt of it, and although it was likely a masochistic endeavor, Draco relived the moments alone with Hermione in his mind as he lay in bed, yearning for her.

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 **Author's Note:**

Please review if you enjoyed this chapter.

This has been my favorite chapter to write thus far.

More to come.

I need a cold shower lol.

xoxo

Syren


	13. XIII: Death

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XIII: **Death**

He had finally done it.

Draco stood there, towered by the pile of odds and ends that had been hidden away within the Room of Requirement. He stared at the wooden panels of the cabinet, a quivering exhale passing his lips as he waited for that moment of sweet relief. It never came. He was hoping for some reaction - be it satisfaction, anxiety, regret.

He had done what he never thought he'd have the strength to do: he had destroyed Lord Voldemort's only tool to invading Hogwarts. The Vanishing Cabinet lay in a heap, pieces of wood and metal strewn atop one another. It's done, he reminded himself. He had done it, he had made a choice.

 _What now?_

The weight of his task had felt like a boulder on his shoulders all year, and he had finally rid himself of it. His mind went to all the people this affected: himself, of course - it was likely that if he were to meet the Dark Lord face to face, he would be murdered for his act of willful disobedience. His mother came into his thoughts. She may also carry a brunt of the sentence; though he convinced himself that the Dark Lord wouldn't harm her - Lord Voldemort's most-vigilant follower was, after-all, his mother's sister. Perhaps he may take pity on his mother, who would have to live her life with a husband cast away in Azkaban, and a treacherous son who got what was coming to him.

As he thought of Hermione, Draco began to feel the first inkling of pressure melting off of his shoulders. It was for her that he did this. Despite her having no understanding or awareness of the cabinet's existence and his part in the Dark Lord's plan, she had played an instrumental role in his decision to revolt against it. Had he been on his own, having never known Hermione beyond the "obnoxious know-it-all classmate", he knew he wouldn't have had the strength to push past the status quo and develop his own path.

He relived the events of the past few days. He remembered the bath with Hermione; even the mere thought of it made his body react in arousal. Then, the next day he had attended a full day of classes for the first time perhaps all year. It was after Defense Against the Dark Side that Snape took Draco aside and began his usual pattern of asking intrusive questions.

"Why were you attempting to craft Felix Felices?" Snape asked him, a hand pressed on his shoulder as the dark beady eyes of the professor bore into him. Draco had felt the familiar sense of his privacy being breached any time Snape was near and he began to steel up against the invasive eyes of Severus Snape. Before Draco had a chance to respond, the professor continued, "I could have helped you - instead you wasted time on ruined potions. Here, take this -"

Professor Snape reached into his pocket and procured two long glass vials filled to the brim with golden fluid that glistened like a summer's sun through a window. He pressed them into Draco's hands.

"You will know when to use these," Snape informed him. "Have you made any progress with your task?"

Draco, fortified intently against the prying nature of the Potions Master, shook his head. Snape did not react and remained quiet as Draco slipped the vials into his inner pocket.

"You have difficult tasks ahead of you, Draco; you must be wary," Snape said. "What you're doing now will define your future, do not make light of your choices."

It was those words that shook Draco. _Do not make light of your choices._ It was Snape who reminded Draco that he had a choice in all this. It was his choice to abide by the demands of the Dark Lord, and his choice to live free, in pursuit of his own happiness.

Yet, perhaps it was a mistake.

Draco imagined the repercussions, he attempted to plot out any unsavory outcome that may come his way. He will likely die, or worse. Still, he didn't really care. The image of Hermione lingered in his thoughts, alleviating any pesky moments of uncertainty that sprung up.

With a deep breath, Draco stepped away from what remained of the cabinet. Venturing toward the exit, he looked around the Room of Requirements with its towering dusty books, broken and disused furniture, bottles upon bottles of potions, sherry, and congealed gunk. It was an odd room and he was finally able to take it all in. As he passed a large acid-stained and blistered cupboard with the bust of a large ugly witch atop it, he could finally appreciate the finality of his choice as he left the cabinet behind. The heap of wooden rubble would fit right in with the destroyed, discarded pieces that resided in the room of hidden things.

»»-¤-««

Draco moved briskly and gingerly down several flights of stairs, as though he weighed a load less than when he had ascended those same steps. Having all but abandoned Myrtle's Lavatory for a more discreet location, he had requested that Hermione meet him in a History of Magic classroom across the hall on the first floor. As his feet led him down several floors, he was disrupted by the sense of tightness that gathered at his chest. Instinctively, his hand flew to his heart where he pressed his palm. There he felt heat emanating from the thin silver sage leaf that hung below his throat and was tucked away under several layers of clothes. He continued his steps downward with more urgency as his mind raced and imagination took flight as to the cause of the trinket's reaction.

As he bounded down the fourth floor and toward the third, the sound of shouting filled the stairway, reverberating through the corridors and toward Draco. He followed the sound, confusion and curiosity evident in his features.

"-stupid whore," he could hear the shrill voice of a female echoing outward as he walked down the halls of the third floor. His weight placed delicately on the ball of his feet, with each step he tread soundlessly in stealth. "You've ruined his future with your filth blood - I'll have to wash my hands a thousand times to get the stench of of mudblood off of my skin!"

His ears perked at the words, and his heart began to race as his imagination ran wild with the possibilities of who was speaking those words, and particularly to whom they were being spoken to. As he moved around the corner onto another corridor, he was met with the sight of Pansy Parkinson. Her pasty face was blotched with red, and Draco could make out the faint outline of a red ring developing around her left eye just above her cheekbone. Though Pansy was normally tall in stature, her appearance in that moment made her appear massive as she stood with her shoulders wide. Her arm was outstretched toward the wall and as Draco moved toward the center of the corridor, he could see why: Pansy's thin fingers were coiled around the throat of Hermione Granger whose arms and legs lay limp. A dark trail of blood was dripping down her chin from her mouth which contrasted greatly with her pallor, her skin nearly matching her white blouse as she struggled to breathe.

Draco felt his hands reflexively clench into fists at his sides as he attempted to swallow every urge to jump in and tackle Pansy off of her. He observed a long wand which appeared as though wrapped in ivy, had been cast along the floor. He picked it up and slipped it into his back pocket without a sound before he took a step forward toward the two girls.

"What's going on here?" Draco attempted to speak deliberately even-toned, veiling his investment in Hermione's well-being. He shoved his hands into his pockets and perched up his chin as Pansy's head turned to face him.

"Well, look who's here to save the day," Pansy spoke, her tone venomous and piercing. "Are you here to collect your whore mudblood?"

Draco glanced between the wild eyes of Pansy, whose lips were curled in a sneer, and the blank gaze of Hermione whose eyes were slowly rolling back into her head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Pansy. I think you've done enough to scare her. Come," he fought the urge to yank her away, and attempted to even his tone, "let's get to the dungeons before Filch discovers this and gives us all detention."

Parkinson looked at him aghast, scoffing at his statement.

"Don't pretend, Draco," she spat, "I know _everything_.You can't fool me anymore, I saw you two! I saw you together, and I promise you that once this disgusting girl is dead they will all come for you."

Each one of Pansy's words struck Draco in the chest like a thin dagger, and wrath began to bubble up from the pit of his stomach. His hand, hidden deep in his pocket, gripped his wand until his knuckles grew white.

"You have ruined your family's name," Pansy continued, "you've discarded your House, you've ruined it all! F-f-for _her_?"

There was no more pretending now, as Draco's glared at the pug-faced girl before him. Though hell was boiling within him, from the outside he appeared as cool and collected as ever.

"I will give you one last opportunity," Draco spoke, his voice steady and his words flowing like spider's silk, "to release Hermione." Pansy huffed at the sound of the name. The faint hiss of Hermione's wheezing from the pressure around her throat grated his nerves as he struggled to keep composure.

"You've sealed your fate, Drac-"

Before Pansy could finish her sentence, Draco Malfoy whipped out his wand and pointed it toward her. With a booming roar, he shouted, " _Relashio!_ " The spell darted into Pansy and thrust her several feet in the air, across the corridor. She landed on her back with a heavy thud. As Pansy's grip had released Hermione, she slipped down against the wall.

Draco rushed forward, slipping an arm around her waist as he hoisted her upwards. Holding her, he attempted to place her back onto her feet though Hermione began to slip down again, her legs bending as though they were made of elastic. Her arms fell helplessly at her sides, unable to hold him for support.

"Jelly," Hermione wheezed, hardly conscious as she lay in his arms, "limb..."

Draco nodded with recognition and swiftly aimed his wand toward her. " _Delenso Wibbly_ ," he whispered.

Hermione groaned as the curse lifted. It was as if all of her limbs had fallen asleep, the odd sensation of pins and needles tingled and stung her feet and hands. Almost immediately, however, she felt the hot blood rushing back through her extremities and a sense of strength came back to her. With the help of Draco, she attempted to stand up on her own. His arm was still wrapped around her as they approached the groaning Slytherin girl coiled in pain on the floor.

"What do we do?" Hermione asked him.

"All yours," Draco said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve Hermione's wand. He handed it to her with a smirk.

"You're both fucked," Pansy spat as they approached her. She attempted to bring herself to sit up, but the sharp pain of landing square on her back overcame her and she collapsed back on the ground. Though weakened, she did not yield. "You'll be murdered by the Dark Lord himself soon enough, you bloody traitor..."

"We'll see about that," Hermione responded, lifting her wand, " _Stupefy!_ "

Pansy's head tilted to the side, unconscious. She appeared almost harmless as she laid there stunned on the floor, her arms sprawled to her sides. Hermione's chest fell with a heavy exhale as she realized that the fight was over. She glanced at Draco whose features were unreadable, though the faintest trace of a sneer was visible as his lips curled. Without another word, he calmly directed his wand to the unconscious Pansy Parkinson and muttered the word, " _Confundo_." Pansy's body shuddered as the spell hit her, though she remained knocked out.

Draco prayed that the Confundus Charm was strong enough to muddle her memories and cast an air of confusion over these past events. As Pansy laid there, unconscious, confused, and notably bruised in the face, Hermione cast the final spells, levitating her to an empty storage room and casting a disillusionment charm to hide her from any students or staff that wander down the corridors.

Once Pansy was safely out of sight, Draco rushed Hermione out of the area in question where the floor was matted with droplets of Hermione's blood. With an arm around her waist, he helped her walk down the corridor, past a heavy wooden door, and through a stone hallway. They slowly shuffled down the chilly hallway and past another wooden door, finally arriving to the Clock Tower entrance. A massive, heavy pendulum swung overhead as the monotonous sound of the clock echoed through the empty space below.

The soft rays of moonlight shone through the transparent clock's face and illuminated the room with a blue glow. There were several heavy stone planters with overflowing leafy foliage, next to the planters were wooden benches that overlooked the clock above. Draco aided Hermione toward a bench and sat her down, ushering her to press her back against the wall in order to maintain her strength.

"How are you still bleeding?" he huffed with chagrin.

Hermione reached up to touch her lip where Pansy had punched her; swollen and split, blood continued to pool out into a large globule before it dripped down her chin. She could taste the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth as the tear extended to her inner lip and stung with a radiating ache.

"She's lucky I didn't kill her right then and there," Draco muttered to himself, searching his pockets in a frenzy to find something that may stop the bleeding. "Why don't I bloody carry a hankerchief, for crying out loud."

"Draco, you could use magic," Hermione offered composedly.

"How did I not..." Draco sighed, "nevermind." He lifted his wand to her face and muttered, " _Episkey!_ "

Immediately, Hermione's lower lip mended together and the stinging alleviated. Hermione reached up and wiped the blood off her lips and chin with the sleeve of her robe.

For the first time that night, Draco sighed with relief as he sat down next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled him into her chest, cradling her head. He pressed a firm kiss against the top of her crown and held her there. Hermione did not seem to reciprocate his comforting touch, and Draco figured it was due to the trauma she had just experienced moments ago. As he released her, she sat up and swallowed deeply.

"Alright," Draco said softly, "tell me everything that happened."

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	14. XIV: Ten of Swords

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XIV: **Ten of Swords**

Despite the rhythmic ticking of the giant clock which loomed overhead, time felt as though it had frozen for Draco as Hermione recounted the events of that evening. She described how Pansy had followed her out of the library - which was made easier by the fact that Hermione would often stay in the library alone, after all her classmates had shuffled off to their dormitories for the evening. Hermione had felt that something was wrong as she exited the library, and took a quick detour to the girl's lavatory to wait it out. Having convinced herself of being paranoid since having read a frightful story of known Sorceress Elizabeth Bathory earlier that evening, she exited the girls loo and into the desolate corridor. It was there that Pansy cornered her and shoved her against the stone wall.

Pansy's meticulous planning and predatory stalking made Draco's skin crawl.

Hermione appeared very stoic as she explained how Pansy initially seemed to want to verbally attack her, release some of her frustrations and jealousies on the befuddled Gryffindor, and give her a piece of her mind.

"Then it was like something switched," Hermione said, her voice soft as it carried in the open courtyard. "She began to sound paranoid, saying everyone would find out about us. She kept saying that I was putting you in danger, that I would be your downfall and 'the Dark Lord will never forgive him.'"

Draco dropped his gaze, watching as Hermione's hands continued to shake from the shock of it all. Draco placed his palms atop her hands and drew them to his lap as he attempted to warm her icy, shaking fingers.

"She went on about a task or problem you have…" Hermione continued with her brows furrowed. "She said it was very important for you and your future, and she's written to her father about it. She didn't say what it was - I don't know, she kept rambling on."

"Odd," Draco responded, attempting to swallow the thick knot that had formed in the base of his throat.

"And one minute she was saying I was distracting you from the task, but then she said I was being used by you for information."

"She sounds insane," Draco responded in an even-toned, glancing up to meet her gaze. Hermione shrugged softly. "I haven't used you for any information, and I don't know what task she's talking about…"

"Er," Hermione said, her voice small, "You asked for help with the potions. You seemed quite invested in that."

"What, you mean the Felix Felices? If the D-Voldemort," he stammered, not quite used to speaking the Dark Lord's name, "needed help with obtaining liquid luck, he would hopefully ask someone much more adept at potions than me, Hermione," Draco asserted.

Hermione's forehead creased in thought as she sighed.

"I suppose your right." She bowed her head, her fringe falling forward to shield her eyes. Every part of her felt so heavy in that moment, all she wanted to do was succumb to sleep. "It was such a disorienting experience, Draco. I didn't know what to make of what she was saying, none of it really made sense to me but she was adamant and so upset about it all…"

Draco closed the space between them by drawing his hand upwards, his fingers gently pulling her disorderly curls backward as they grazed her cheeks.

"You're freezing," he whispered, as he released her hands and began to unfasten his cloak to reveal a thin black button-down shirt and black slacks beneath it.

"I don't feel cold," Hermione mumbled, puzzled. With one fluid movement, he draped his heavy woolen cloak over her shoulders, the thick black fabric covering every part of her except for her head which appeared pale in contrast.

"Christ, Granger, I think you're in shock," he responded before sitting beside her again as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. He wrapped his long arms around her and lifted her into his lap. He drew her into his warm chest, holding her tightly against him while his hands drew large circles on her back to conduct heat while her feet dangled above the floor.

"I feel alright," she murmured against his shoulder. If she were truthful to herself, she had begun to lose sensation of her extremities, and the entire evening appeared to be a fog to her as time passed on. She closed her eyes as the rhythmic pounding of his heart against her ear began to lull her into a calm comfort.

Moment passed as they sat there. He cradled her in his arms as his mind buzzed with thought. There was no room for emotion in his body as he attempted to understand exactly what the evening meant for him. Did Pansy even know what the task was? He could have sworn it was a secret that only the Dark Lord and some of his most trusted Death Eaters knew, Prudeus Parkinson not being one of them.

"Perhaps she was hexed," Hermione's voice broke the silence that had been crafted between them.

"Hm?" he responded, running his fingers through her tangled hair.

"She hardly made sense," she continued, "perhaps she was hexed or bewitched to be in a paranoid fit. She was speaking nonsense about there being Death Eaters at Hogwarts and the will of Voldemort being done. Now that I think about it, it sounds ridiculous."

The confidence of Hermione's tone perplexed Draco.

"What makes you think that?" He asked.

"Well Dumbledore's here," Hermione responded as though it were obvious, "what chance would a Death Eater have under Dumbledore's nose? Besides, there are full-fledged powerful wizards at Voldemort's disposal. He wouldn't dare keep his followers under Dumbledore's eye." Everything Hermione had learned about Voldemort and his Death Eaters seemed to indicate that he sought those who were useful to him, and Hogwarts students did not fall in that demographic. Of all the conversations she had been included in within the Order, none of them seemed to indicate Voldemort initiating within Hogwarts, and the concept seemed paranoid at best.

The weight of the day's stress had taken a toll on Draco's better senses and he couldn't help himself as he scoffed at her words.

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously, pulling away to look up at him.

"That's just not true," he shrugged.

"Why not?" she responded.

"Granger, think about it, Hogwarts has two of er," the word stuck to his tongue, " _V_ _oldemort_ ' _s_ enemies here: Dumbledore and Potter. Why wouldn't he have followers here to do his deeds and keep track of his enemies? Don't be so naive to think Hogwarts is safe from his clutches."

"But," Hermione responded, blinking slowly. "But then, who? If Voldemort has Death Eaters at Hogwarts, why wouldn't he use them to do his bidding here?"

"It's dangerous to expose your allies," Draco responded calmly, "if they get in the wrong hands before they are useful."

As they sat in brief silence, Draco wondered if he had said too much. It seemed difficult to tell whether, after Pansy's outburst, everything was exposed or if he still remained protected by Hermione's own optimism. Perhaps he should have kicked himself for revealing what he knew, or challenging her mindset on how much of Voldemort's grasp Hogwarts was under. Despite the fact that it was undoubtedly foolish, Draco's candor felt freeing.

"I suppose," she said, "but who would he even choose to be a Death Eater?" Her eyes narrowed as her mind whirred. "How do you know all this?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, Granger," he replied, "there may be more Death Eaters at Hogwarts than you'd care to know."

 _Exactly two more_ , Draco thought to himself as the evening of his initiation flashed in his mind. The other Death Eater beside himself was, of course, his supposed mentor Severus Snape.

Hermione gazed at him with sheer bewilderment as the wheels spun in her mind. Her hands retreated to wrap around her own torso as Draco continued to hold her in place seated atop his lap.

"I…" she furrowed her brows, "I don't believe that," she replied eventually.

Draco nodded. All the better, he realized, for her to maintain her perception that everything was fine at Hogwarts. A part of him was jealous of her naiveté but he mostly felt as though he wanted to protect her from the harsh truth of their situation. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him again. She leaned into him once more, squirming against him. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and inhaled her warm scent with a sigh.

Several moments passed before he felt her hands quivering again, and her muscles moved beneath the heavy cloak.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he looked down at her, "Are you shaking again?"

She lifted her head toward him and he could see her large, chestnut eyes were gleaming with tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked, perplexed.

"What is this?" she responded with a hoarse whisper before Draco felt a thick bandage tear off his forearm. He cursed loudly before standing up, the pain of the sticky bandage yanked off of his skin causing him to jolt upright as Hermione scurried to her feet in order to prevent her own fall.

"What was that for?" he hissed, looking down at the spot that stung. Before he could process what he was looking at, her loud gasp reverberated against the walls and echoed in his ears. The sight of the Dark Mark stared up at him as it shone in the glistening moonlight, stark against his pale skin.

The image frightened him nearly as much as it did her. He had not looked at it since the night of the Death Eater initiation when he had received it. _'An honor,"_ 'they called it. It was an excruciating 'honor' he never asked for, but accepted without any protest. At first he felt a tinge of pride at being the youngest Death Eater in the circle, but once he learned the price this mark came with it quickly became the bane of his existence, his cross to bear to pay for his and his family's crimes. He had never seen it as ' _an honor,_ ' and he doubted wholeheartedly that he ever would.

"I don't understand," her voice was soft and jagged, barely audible as the breath caught in her throat. Draco glanced up to see her wild-eyed and small, his own cloak still sitting atop her shoulders seemed to dwarf her as they cascaded to the floor. Her cheeks glistened with silent streaming tears as her gaze was glued on the morbid mark that branded his forearm. "In the pool… I saw the bandage… I thought it was another cut that hadn't healed. All this time you've been a…"

"Hermione," his eyes pleaded and his tone was soft as caramel as he took a step forward. She whipped out her wand from her side pocket and pointed it at him, the tip of the wand quivered as her whole body shook.

"Don't you dare," she whispered viciously.

"You know I didn't want this," he pleaded, "You've known this, you knew I had to deal with... challenges all year."

"You're a _Death Eater_ ," she hissed.

"By blood, perhaps," he responded as he reached to pull his sleeves down, the sight of the mark made his stomach turn as he felt bare, exposed before her in his entirety. "Not a very good one, I promise," he shrugged with a half-smile as his eyes twinkled with a certain vulnerability Hermione had only caught glimpses of in their time together.

"Pansy was telling the truth," she whispered in horror. Her head grew light as realization dawned on her in its full weight.

"No she _wasn't_ ," he responded firmly.

"You've been using me to do your- your Death Eater bidding!" she accused, her eyes wide in disbelief of her own statement. Draco's shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh as irritation mingled with impatience.

"No-"

"This whole time-"

"Granger, stop it!" he hissed, pinching his nose as he attempted to rail in the spiral of chaos that was befalling them both, "You're overreacting - Pansy put insane thoughts in your head and now you're overwhelmed. Drop your wand and come here, you're exhausted."

The words struck her like a thunderbolt as she stared at him agape at his gall. Her fingers tightened around the wand as her spine straightened.

"You're mad," she replied, "You think you can just tell me to forget it and come back to you for comfort?"

"You bloody well knew everything, Granger," he snapped. His lips curled in a sneer as he shook his head, the muscles in forearm tightening as he rest his hands on his hips. He moved away from her, leaning his broad back against the stone wall. "Don't stand there acting like your whole world has been pried apart, you knew who I was and what I came from."

"How dare you-"

"What? Am I wrong?" he scoffed. "You can't act so surprised to find out Draco sodding Malfoy isn't the precious angel you thought he was," he continued with acidity. "If this stupid mark has ruined everything for you - then go. I don't need to defend myself to you, and if you're too afraid of this mark then you don't belong with me after all."

Draco felt the rapid beat of his heart throughout his body as he watched her wince at his words. He willfully pressed his entire weight against the stone wall in an attempt to prevent him from darting forward and scooping her up in his arms as she shook with silent sobs.

"I tried my best to make all of this clear to you, Hermione," he spoke again, this time softer, his words gradually melting with tenderness. "My background is less than stellar, I know. But I'm not like them, and I'm not the horrid monster you think I am."

He hoped he was telling the truth, though parts of him doubted it. If he wasn't a monster, it was to Hermione's credit that he had steered clear of that path. And without her in his life, he doubted he would have the strength to persevere on the road away from darkness.

He watched her as endless tears trailed down her cheeks where they fell off her chin and onto her blouse. Her lower lip was trapped in a bite as she attempted to stifle any sound, as though she could hide her sobs from him. Draco glanced down to the cold stone floor as his own eyes began to sting and a tight knot developed in his throat.

"I don't know what to do," she spoke finally, her voice cracking as she gasped into a sob. She lowered her wand, reaching up with her free hand to wipe her tears though they continued to stream freely. "I - I never thought it was this bad."

Draco sighed and otherwise remained silent. What could he have said?

"Draco," she whispered hoarsely as she looked up at him, her hair in wild disarray and eyes bloodshot as they wept.

"Hermione," he responded, his voice soft and gentle. His brows were furrowed with concern but he maintained his distance at her request. "I have done everything," he breathed, attempting to still his quivering voice, "everything I can to do right by you. Ever since the bloody prophecy, I have become a changed man and I am not the monster Pansy made me out to be."

Hermione squinted her eyes, as though trying to see everything more clearly. "Prophecy?"

"It's complicated," Draco said, his gaze wavering toward the night sky that peaked between the large hands of the clock tower.

"I can't think about this anymore," Hermione breathed. She reached up to cup her own forehead. Her mind was whirling with information, and she could not make sense of any of it. Exhaustion from the day threatened to overwhelm her. "I need to go."

"Hermione, wait," Draco urged, taking a step toward her with his arms outstretched to take her into his embrace. "Don't leave."

She could feel the blood pounding in her head as it rang in her ears. Her mind felt as though it was full of dense, heavy fog, and her body ached as though it were made of lead.

"Come here, it's alright," he spoke so softly Hermione could hardly hear him as he moved toward her, reaching his fingers out as though approaching a frightened animal he was trying to capture. Muttering under his breath inaudibly, he was finally within arms reach as he took Hermione's wrists in his hand and cradled them under his chin. "It will be alright," he urged, his brows knit tightly and his gaze intense.

The initial instinct of fighting him or fleeing dissipated almost instantly. She felt better, calmer, more trusting.

The only sound among them was the rhythmic inhale and exhale as they stood together. She felt entranced, lost amidst the night. _Perhaps it was all fine,_ she thought to herself, _maybe it will be fine_. With each breath the weight of his revelation was lightened in her mind, though she sensed something else within herself.

 _It'll be fine._

 _Everything is okay._

Like a mantra, she could feel the words in her mind.

And yet she sensed the slightest trace of anxiety. Perhaps fear - maybe even a bit of dread. She could feel it lingering beneath the depths of all the 'fineness' and 'okayness' that she was experiencing in that moment. It felt foreign to her, her primary reactions having been deep anger and sorrow at realizing the man she admired had possibly betrayed her.

Hermione quirked her head with confusion as her eyes rose to his. He stared so carefully at her, she felt as though she were being examined.

Her eyes widened with awareness as it dawned on her.

Without hesitation Hermione recoiled away from him, breaking their physical bond of touch. Immediately her own emotion returned, that roaring anger and stinging sadness blending together.

"You - you used magic to -"

"I didn't know what else-"

"You _truly_ thought you could use your magic to calm me down?" she shouted, her head pounding so hard she felt as though it could burst. "Get away from me!"

"Please, Hermione -" he whispered, stepping toward her again.

She backed away from him, the room spinning around her as she attempted to orient herself.

She felt his touch on her arms, his fingers sought to hold her and comfort her but she recoiled in repulsion.

 _"Flipendo!"_ she cried out instinctively. A burst of blue light shone out of her wand and struck Draco square in the chest, mere inches away from the tip of the wand. The blast knocked him backwards as though he were punched by a giant, and he crashed loudly into the stone wall several feet away.

Quickly Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the Clocktower, his cloak slipping off her shoulders on her way through the door. She could hear Draco gasping for air as the wind had been knocked entirely out of his lungs. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed while her legs carried her through the hallway and back down the corridor where her droplets of blood on the ground had dried and darkened. Within moments she reached the Gryffindor common room, she flew up to her dormitory, and collapsed on her bed.

Tears still fresh on her cheeks, Hermione succumbed to sleep curled up clutching her pillow.

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AN:

Hello lovelies,

I wanted to say how thankful I am for you,

I have had so much support in this story and I truly did not anticipate it

This is the first fanfic or any form of fiction I have written since I was a child

so all of your reviews bring so much joy to me and are very affirming.

I know I have not been the best with updating often and regularly

I recently became engaged and have had a lot of life happening,

(I, a Slytherin, will be marrying my own Gryffindor)

but I'm committed to this story and wanted to thank you sincerely for reading it.

Also if you are confused about the spell that Draco used in this chapter,

please refer to chapter IX: The Star for some background.

Thank you!

Syren


	15. XV: The Devil

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XV: **The Devil**

Hermione felt thankful that she was a muggleborn. She had spent several summers at home, enjoying long warm days with her older muggle cousins, where she learned the one true trick to covering up a hickey. They would take an ice cold rag cloth and press it over the reddened-purple skin, all the while chattering about their happily-ever-after romances with their summer flings. After about 20 minutes, a hot towel would replace the cold one as the discoloration would lighten slightly.

She stared at her own reflection, inspecting the greenish yellow skin on her throat. Unfortunately, it wasn't a hickey that had been the cause of the discoloration, but the long, rough fingers of Pansy Parkinson curled around her throat three nights prior. She covered the marks with a hot towel, contemplating any magical solutions she could attempt that did not involve a visit to Madame Pomfrey. She had avoided having the mark seen by buttoning up her white uniform shirt to the top and fastening her scarlet and gold Gryffindor tie rather tighter than usual. She'd find herself tightening it unconsciously, sometimes to the point of restricting her airway. It irritated her to have to endure that level of discomfort in order to avoid detection, but what other solution did she have?

Hermione stepped out of the girl's bathroom, down the dormitory steps, and into the Gryffindor common room where her two best friends sat near the large plush couches.

"He kept me there til midnight last time," Harry huffed at Ron.

Hermione approached, quietly taking a seat on the stately chair next to them while the two boys sat on the floor, long white quills in their hands and a foot long parchment splayed before them. Harry's sheet was covered in scribbles with "DADA" written atop while Ron's was entirely blank except for his name in the upper right hand corner. Minding her business, or trying as much as she could, she pried open a large textbook and sat it atop her lap, half-paying attention to her surroundings.

"Snape's a git," Ron retorted, "probably's keeping you there during practice so Slytherin has a chance at winning the cup."

Harry shrugged, as though the thought hadn't crossed his mind before. "He's up to something with Malfoy," Harry said with confidence. Hermione's ears quirked and her body tensed as she heard the name. "I've seen Snape write letters to Malfoy, trying to get him to visit - not sure what to make of it..."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Ron said, looking up in contemplation, his lips pursed as the long feather of the quill rested on his nose.

"Perhaps he's a death eater," Hermione chimed in quietly. Harry glanced up to look at her and Ron seemed like his head were about to turn a full 180 degrees to stare at her.

"Malfoy or Snape?" Harry inquired.

Hermione shrugged quietly, flipping a page of her book. "Both. Perhaps all of them."

"Why would there be Death Eaters at Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"Why _wouldn't_ there be Death Eaters at Hogwarts - it wouldn't surprise me at all," Harry responded.

"But wouldn't they do Death Eatery things like murder muggleborns and all that? Or worse -"

"Murder me, you mean," Harry responded lightheartedly.

"Shit," Ron cursed, pushing aside his blank assignment, "we're going to be late for divinations!"

Harry glanced over at the clock and rose to his feet, quickly rolling the parchment up and stuffing it into his cloak pocket. Hermione calmly shut the book in her lap and stood as well.

"You don't have class," Ron reminded her about her free-period, as if she didn't already know. Hermione rolled her eyes and stuffed the book into her bag.

"I'll walk with you two, I'm headed to the library anyway," she muttered monotonously. The boys did not question her as she followed behind them, out the portrait door and through the stone walls of Hogwarts.

Though the three bounded hastily toward the astronomy tower, Harry was quickly stopped by Jimmy Peakes, the newest Gryffindor beater who appeared out of breath as he passed a scroll to Harry.

"Dumbledore wants me to head over to him straight away," Harry said excitedly, "I'll see you both later!"

Harry headed hurriedly in the opposite direction, leaving Hermione and Ron to walk together through the quiet hallways.

"Divination alone will be horrid," Ron groaned.

"It's the easiest class at Hogwarts," Hermione reminded him, having dropped the class several years ago due to its utter ridiculousness. They climbed up several flights of stairs and through a corridor, though Ron's stride had slowed to a relaxed pace, seemingly no longer in a rush to get to class.

"You don't want to sit in with me?" Ron offered, a half smile on his lips as his eyes pleaded. Hermione laughed aloud, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the prospect.

"In _Divinations_?" she chuckled, "You'd have to pay-" the words stopped in her mouth as she froze.

The familiar glint of silver blond hair came into her periphery. As he came into full view, the earth felt like it had stopped. He walked down the hallway with two, three Slytherins around him. Hermione did not care to take them in, her gaze was glued on the Slytherin Death Eater she had shared so many tender moments with merely days before.

Time froze. Everything froze for her. The sight of him, tall and gaunt, his jaw clenched as his gaze met hers straight-on. Whatever smile had danced on her face before faded away as their eyes seared into each other. His icy cold gaze, which to an outside observer seemed utterly emotionless, betrayed the pain of seeing her again. She knew it, having encountered that cold exterior several times yet knowing the roaring fire that burned beneath it all. Or did she know it after all?

Everything flooded back into her mind. That night in the bath. The caress of his hot hands against her skin, his kisses on her throat, his bare broad chest as he held her against him. His fingers dragging over her bare breast. His arousal for her grinding into her eager, hungry sex. At the same time, she saw the Dark Mark as it shone in the pale moonlight, the grotesque figure marring the image of him forever. The utter betrayal of his actions as he tried to calm her through magic. Anger and sorrow fought her feelings of desire and yearning. She missed his warmth and hated him for what he did. All of these emotions arose in her in a flash as they wrestled one another.

"Fine then, if you don't want to come I won't force you," Ron said, his words finally snapping her out of her daze. He stood several feet in front of her, and Hermione realized that she had stopped dead in her tracks. A blush crawled into her cheeks as she sheepishly apologized to Ron, excused herself, and rushed to the library.

In her home, between the towering tomes of infinite knowledge and before a large window overlooking the grounds, she sat down and sighed. A lump had formed in her throat and a tightness in her chest that threatened to spill into tears.

 _No moping_ , she promised herself. _He's not worth it._

She knew it in her core. No Death Eater was worth her tears. Yet why did she feel so horrid?

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The wind whipped at his face as he stared out into the abyss causing his eyes to water and sting. The sky had begun to change colour as dusk approached, the horizon fading from a cool blue to a vibrant lavender where the Forbidden Forest met the sky. In the darkening sky above, streams of light would appear then fade off into the atmosphere. It was too bad this mysterious beauty was wasted on him. Draco stepped forward onto the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and looked down, down, down. He knew how high up he was, the astronomy tower having been his second home all year, but the height never failed to make him a bit queasy. He clutched onto his broomstick for support as he continued to peer, the long wooden handle standing steady as it balanced him.

He took a deep breath, mustering up any courage that was left in him, he gripped his broom tight, and jumped off rising quickly upwards toward the sky. The air was crisp against his skin as he soared forward, leaving the looming tower behind.

It felt good to leave. He didn't need to stay at Hogwarts anymore, there was nothing there for him. All he had, all he wanted, had disappeared from his grasp and it wasn't fair to continue the pain and destruction that resulted from his touch. This was the right thing to do - he was sure of it - prophecy or not, it was best to just step far away.

And why not? Hermione had quickly moved on and found happiness without him.

He didn't even feel upset about it - he didn't feel anything about it. He didn't feel anything. He couldn't feel misery anymore, it had all faded away into nothingness. Apathy. Nihilism. Hopelessness.

The image of her ran through his head from earlier that day. She seemed so happy laughing with Weasley in the corridor. He had stifled that stinging, resentful feeling of jealousy that struck when Draco saw her with him. Despite wanting her for himself, he had to let it go. He had muffled the monster within that wanted to keep her for himself, away from everyone else.

That laugh she had shared with Weasley seemed so natural. Perhaps that's what she needed all along...

And he'd allow her to find the peace by leaving.

Draco scowled to himself. A large part of him wanted to feel the pain of losing her. He wanted to cry for her. The lack of feeling was worse than the sorrow he wished he could experience.

He lingered over the Black Lake a bit as he stared down at the rippling dark tides which waxed and waned. Draco wondered why people enjoy large bodies of water, why they find serenity in its presence. The ocean, the sea, the lakes. It was all the same to him: they were grotesque. Having spent six years in the Slytherin corridors, exposed to the dark underbelly of the Black Lake, all manner of mystery and serenity was gone. It was the home of the Giant Squid which would viciously devour any Grindylow that crossed its path, while the Grindylows would catch, tear apart, and consume unassuming fish. The savage circle of life was not exempt in the deep watery setting; it was all death and destruction beneath the peaceful waves of the sea. Water was just as brutal as the land.

The broom began to lazily ascend as Draco's eyes wandered toward the horizon. He knew he would reach the barrier soon; that magical wall that had been cast for decades around the castle which protected it from outsiders would surely keep him out once he left.

He paused again, sitting upright, not quite ready to leave Hogwarts forever, though something in his bones wanted him to just take off and move forward. He contemplated where he'd live, what kind of life he would lead once he'd left his old life behind.

His gaze shifted toward a rising stream of smoke where Hagrid's hut would be. Perhaps he would fashion an isolated cabin for himself in the deep woods - away from everyone. Would the Dark Lord find him there?

 _Probably,_ he considered.

A loud boom echoed ahead where Draco's eyes were resting, above the swaying trees of the Forbidden Forest. The sound was accompanied by the rustling of leaves and branches as the Forest swayed as though alive and waking. Below Draco, water was rippling from the sound and vibrations ahead. Draco stared in confusion, squinting in attempt to see the source of chaos. He leaned forward and darted his broom upward, rising quickly overhead to take a better look. As he approached, he could see trees parting like the Red Sea and the sound of battlecries ringing below.

He shook his head as if to reset his brain, not quite trusting whether what he was seeing was real.

 _Just leave,_ a voice nagged in his mind. _You're so close to leaving all this behind, just go._

Though curiosity appealed to him, Draco found himself leaning backwards, away from the ruckus of the trees, away from Hogwarts. Yet his broom barely drifted to a walking pace as his eyes remained glue to the trees. The rustling separation of the forest below was leading straight toward Hogwarts. Draco deciphered that the source of the movement could not be a good sign and an alarm bell rang off as he considered whether Hogwarts was in any type of danger.

 _It's not worth going back,_ the voice enticed again, _I'm sure it's nothing._

As soon as the words left his mind, a shot of green flashed up into the night sky.

The image of a large skull, glowing green against the now navy sky, opened its jaws to reveal a serpent slithering from its mouth like a tongue.

Floating above Hogwarts castle was the Dark Mark.


	16. XVI: The Tower

AN: Hi, I don't use the metric system so I apologize for using feet and yards instead of meters, kilometers, or anything else that British people would use. I tried converting and incorporating the metric system, but it sounded weird to me so I just stuck with what I know. You probably wouldn't have noticed it if I didn't say anything, lol. Okay then. Carry on!

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XVI: **The Tower**

Draco's broom zipped forward heading straight toward the looming stone towers of Hogwarts castle. His knuckles grew pale, his fingers tightly gripping his broomstick, while his mind whirred with worry at the sight of the ghastly symbol. Was the Dark Lord at Hogwarts? Was it Draco's fault?

As if in response, Draco's torso winced in response to a sudden burning pain that seared on his left forearm. Panicked, Draco pulled up his robe sleeve to see the Dark Mark staring at him, the snake moving like an ouroboros out of the skull's mouth and back into its head in an infinite dreary circle. The Dark Lord was rallying, that he was certain of, and if Draco had any questions of the Dark Lord's involvement at Hogwarts, he just got his answer.

The voice continued to nag in his head as it continued to weigh the options of leaving. What if the Dark Lord had come to Hogwarts for him - to kill him as punishment for disobedience? What if he wanted to kill _her_ as punishment? What if Hermione no longer loves him anyway and will never want him back? Is it really worth the trouble and the potential danger?

He was so close to his own freedom - from everyone. A fresh start. A new life.

 _Just go back,_ the voice urged. _She's not worth it._

Then he saw her in his mind. The way her eyes twinkled when she teased him, the way she would kiss his shoulder just to show affection, how she nurtured him into health in the forest. He envisioned the pain in her face when she thought he betrayed her. How fiercely she protected herself, upheld her own virtue, and pushed him away when she detected darkness.

Yes. She was worth it.

Draco made his choice resolutely: he could not leave her behind. He needed to ensure her safety and make sure everything was okay.

Draco's broomstick sped toward the Hogwarts grounds, where a thick layer of fog crept in from the Forbidden Forest and covered the grassy ground like a thick grey blanket. It swirled, broke apart, and reconnected as movement disturbed the dense mist and streaks of multicoloured sparks flew in every which way. Draco steered his wand toward the Greenhouses where activity seemed most rampant.

His broom hovered undetected as he made out the battle below: there were several figures in black robes with tall pointed hoods. Draco recognized it as the Death Eater's regular garb. He squinted to make out the identity of each one, but the black night made it impossible to see. His eyes received respite, however, when the temperamental night sky shown brightly as sparks of white light flew across the sky in clusters, one more brilliant than the other. He had never seen anything quite like it, as if stars were falling out of the sky and showering the earth with light.

He quickly moved toward the castle, hugging one of Hogwarts' stone tower walls, hoping he could avoid detection under the new flash of light that filled the sky.

He searched for curly brown hair, but couldn't spot her anywhere amid the scene. He spotted long emerald green robes and a tall, sprightly woman who he identified as McGonnagall hurling spell after spell toward a Death Eater Draco had only seen during his initiation, Mark Gibbon. She was successful in striking the man square in the chest causing him to collapse to the ground. Draco's gaze wandered and she spotted a lithe blue-haired woman dueling with Thorfinn Rowle. Near the pair was a body slumped on the ground and Draco's breath caught in his throat until a meteor shining overhead revealed the sparkle of ginger on the collapsed victim's head. A Weasley, Draco surmised. If Ron Weasley was collapsed on the ground, possibly dead, then where the hell would Hermione be? _They would have surely stuck together_ , he'd thought.

"Where is she?" he breathed to himself, his anxiety increasing by the moment. _Can't find her if I stay here_. He leaned his tense shoulders forward as his broom began to slowly and quietly glide ahead, closer to the chaotic and violent scene.

He figured there were only two people Hermione would likely be attached hip-to-hip with: Weasley, and if not him, Potter - though Potter proved to be difficult to spot as well.

Near the edge of the forest, Draco could make out two short, squat Death Eaters with ruddy amber hair who Draco knew to be Amycus and Alecto Carrow. They stood back to back as they slung curse after curse at what appeared to be Luna Lovegood and... Ron Weasley! Draco's eyes widened as he recognized the red haired boy throwing a Knock-Back Jinx at Amycus, though missing by several inches. A figure moved in Draco's periphery, almost undetected in the darkness, though Draco spotted the tall figure slowly, stealthily stepping forward. His face appeared smeared in a dark substance, and his hair appeared wild and savage. A smile crept on his lips with a wicked grin that shone dark in the night - was that blood?

A harsh shiver of disgust shook through Draco's spine as he recognized the savage creature: Fenrir Greyback. He had always hated being around that creepy, predatory man-thing. Not quite a Death Eater, not exactly the Dark Lord's pet, Greyback always seemed to arrive when he was least wanted, only to brutalize, terrorize, and feed off victims. It was cruel and unusual, even by Death Eaters standards. Draco's jaw clenched as comprehension dawned on him. Fenrir was stalking Lovegood, surely to make his typical savage attack.

Though Draco didn't quite care for Looney Lovegood, the idea of having Fenrir brutally tear out her throat or whatever else he intended to do to her made Draco want to hurl over the side of his broomstick. Gripping his wand, he whispered a quick incantation in Greyback's direction. Not anticipating the curse, Fenrir Greyback was struck in the back and fell forward, tight knotted ropes encircling his body and constraining him. The attack on Fenrir caught one of the Carrows by surprise, which allowed Ron to make the final blow and knocked them both down.

Draco breathed in relief and a surge of adrenaline rushed through him.

Within a moment, there was a familiar rumbling in his chest. He reached up toward the source and his palm landed on his necklace. Draco pulled it out from under his black button-down top and observed as the silver sage leaf necklace, enchanted to sync with Hermione, began to vibrate more steadily until it began to tighten and coil around his neck, finally settling to vibrate very slowly in the pattern of a heart beat. Panic set in as the pace was much slower than he would have liked.

He sped upward, over the tower, and toward the scattered row of trees that demarcated the Forbidden Forest.

"Granger, where the hell are you?" he asked himself as he scanned the grounds again and again.

He spotted another flash of ginger near the entrance to the Greenhouse about 30 yards away. _The Weasleys are everywhere,_ he thought to himself. He recognized this one as the youngest one, with her long red hair cascading down her back. His brows rose to his hairline as he observed her taking on two Death Eaters at once; she hurled spell after spell and struck the Death Eaters several times; Draco could only imagine how much that had angered them. In a flash, one of the Death Eaters cast a red coloured curse and struck the Weasley, knocking her back as she writhed on the ground with a deafening scream that was audible even to Draco.

"Shit," he whispered to himself and sped his broom forward, instinctively casting two stunning spells at the Death Eaters who did not see it coming. There was no doubt that after being adequately tortured at the hands of the Death Eaters, death would have been her fate. The stunning spell seemed to release her from the clutches of the Cruciatus curse and Ginny rose to her feet, a bit shaken but alive.

Draco swallowed the ever-growing knot in his throat. If they would have tortured and killed Ginny, a pureblooded witch, without hesitation - what would they do to Hermione? He knew the answer.

Draco leaned to his right to steer his broom, though it jolted beneath him. He gripped the wood tightly, confused by the motion. There wasn't anything near him to cause him to fumble. He leaned forward to move the broom toward the castle, but it remained frozen in place.

Then he heard a cackle.

Blood drained from his face as the broom began to move diagonally in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, and descended full-force toward the floor with him still on it. It stopped abruptly about 15 feet above the ground, causing Draco to topple forward off the broom fall with a loud thud onto the grass below. A sharp pain struck his side and Draco could feel the warm texture of blood seep into his pants, where his hips met his thigh.

"You've finally joined the fun!" a high-pitched female voice called out in utter amusement. Draco's head jerked toward the source of the sound but the dense fog made it impossible to see beyond a few feet.

"Who's there!" he demanded, gripping his wand in anticipation.

"Don't recognize me, Draco?" the voice said, "have you really changed that much?"

A black figure came into view. The silhouette revealed a woman: tall, thin though with discernible curves, a full head of raven, untamed curls that framed her face like Medusa's serpents. As she took steps forward, Draco's fears were confirmed as he stared at her face. If it weren't for her gaunt appearance, rotten teeth, and sickly translucent skin that shone silver in the sky, she may have been considered beautiful. In the moment, she seemed utterly wicked as she cackled like a madwoman.

"Say hello to your Auntie Bella," she grinned and reached toward Draco, pinching his cheek. He jolted away with an irritated sneer. "How you've grown, Draco!" she paced in a circle, tapping her wand against her knuckles, "Look at you: disgracing your parents, destroying your bloodline, disobeying the Dark Lord... What a year it's been for you."

Draco remained silent with the sneer planted on his face.

"You have nothing to say for yourself?" she stopped and quirked her head to the side, "Did you really think you could escape the Dark Lord's wishes?"

Bellatrix approached him once more, staring in his eyes as if seeking something.

"And what of your father? What would he say to you knowing how much you've failed him?" Draco's gaze fell to the ground at her words. She nodded, a feverish smirk appearing on the corner of her lips. "Perhaps he'll hang himself in Azkaban for his shame before the other Death Eaters get to him... I thought you were a good boy, Draco. Sending you back to this filth-infested school was your father's last mistake..."

Draco's jaw clenched and unclenched, his fingers squeezed into a fist at his side. Around them, he could hear the sound of hooves banging against the ground causing the earth to vibrate. A Death Eater somewhere to his right shouted in sheer surprise. In the moment, Draco couldn't care at all.

"Was your family's pain worth it? All for a filthy, disgusting, unworthy _mudblood_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco spat, though the words hardly escaped his mouth his jaw was clenched so tight.

"Oh!" Bellatrix chuckled, "Oh good! Then you won't mind if I kill this one then! I've grown so weary of torturing her..."

Draco could feel his temperature rise as Bellatrix stepped forward clearing the fog around them to reveal the shape of a dark body on the ground. Draco rushed forward and stared in horror as he saw who it was. The body of Hermione was curled in the fetal position, the left side of her forehead, neck, and shoulders appeared red, blistered, and burnt. Her right arm lay against her stomach contorted, disjointed, and broken. Piece of splintered wood lay next to her, and it took Draco a moment to recognize it was her wand shattered to bits.

In that brief moment, an image flashed in his mind. He had been here before; he had seen this before. Though not _this_ exactly, but moments before. Draco remembered the dream he had after their evening on the astronomy tower several weeks before. He had seen Bellatrix torture her, felt her sheer pain. He heard Hermione's scream in his head again, fresh as ever. For a moment, he prayed this was a boggart showing him his deepest fear but he knew the extent of his aunt's cruelty, and the smell of Hermione's burnt flesh filled his nostrils. This was real.

He grew faint as he stared at her, a mixture of pure rage and sheer sorrow combining into a sadistic cocktail. Then, for a brief second the smallest trace of a breath appeared to escape Hermione's lips, contrasting black against the fog that began to envelop her again. _She's_ _not dead._

Bellatrix stood a few feet away with a joyful smile as she pointed her wand toward Hermione. "Avada K-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Draco shouted, fury bubbling up inside him and spilling out with the force of a tidal wave. Bellatrix's wand flew out of her hand and landed amidst the fog several feet away.

"I knew it!" she laughed, "You're pale as a ghost, Draco. Couldn't hide it from Auntie Bellatrix. What a foolish boy you've been. Not only have you sullied yourself with an unworthy mudblood, but you've chosen Potter's little girlfriend! My how mad _he_ must have been…"

"Get away from her!" Draco commanded, his wand pointed directly at the crazed woman before him.

With a heavy sigh, Bellatrix dropped her hands to her sides, slipping them into her pocket as she stepped away from the unconscious body of Hermione Granger. Her gaunt, skeletal face contorted into what appeared to Draco as a somber expression, one he had not seen very often though she looked oddly familiar to him.

"You know, it really is too bad that you're blood, Draco. You could have had a life full of glory; the Dark Lord had such great plans for you," her voice was soft enough that Draco had to concentrate to hear her. "What a pity..."

It felt like a heavy rock had sunk in the pit of Draco's stomach and was dragging him down into the earth. As Bellatrix frowned, her forehead furrowed and lips pursed, she bore a striking resemblance to Draco's mother. Draco shifted his weight from one leg to the next, his hand quivering as he held it up, still pointed at her.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Draco," she whispered. He almost wanted to apologize to her; the feeling of guilt had grown within him like a plague.

Bellatrix walked in a half circle around him, pacing absentmindedly as though she were deep in thought. Draco could hear the banging and shouting on the grounds yards away as the Death Eaters, Order, and Dumbledore's Army all had a go at each other. His hip throbbed with pain and his left arm quivered as it held the wand, his forearm searing where the Dark Mark was etched into his skin.

The corners of Bellatrix's mouth curled into a sneer as she spoke, "I do hope the Dark Lord spares your mum - how could she have known what a pathetic excuse you'd become. No, the Dark Lord is a kind and generous Master to his faithful servants," her eyes twinkled with fanaticism, breaking the facade of familiarity that had befallen her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at him with rage and disgust, "but he does not tolerate _blood-traitors_."

In an instant Bellatrix lunged forward, the glint of silver appearing in her hand. Draco instinctively raised both hands to buffer her attack and his hand collided with her shoulder, his wand dropping from his grasp as they toppled to the ground. The sharp, intense pain in his hip stung severely as she landed on his body, though barely having a moment to react, Draco was met with the sight of a silver weapon again as Bellatrix struck toward his face, the sharp point of a three-pronged dagger nearly puncturing his eyeball as he held her wrists and pushed against her. Bellatrix straddled him, pushing the blade down with the weight of her body.

"You will _die_ for what you've done to your family and my Master!" she screamed with utter disgust. "You're a _disgrace_ to your name!"

Though severely malnourished and thin, Bellatrix's strength was surprising. Draco's forearms clenched as he fended off the blade, his muscles beginning to shake - though with anger or fatigue, it didn't matter. Two words floated into his mind in the moment of panic as he anticipated imminent death.

 _"Emanato sensibus!"_ he said, wandless and desperate. Bellatrix's maniacal joy and focus broke for a moment as her eyes widened in apparent fear. Draco recognized the feeling as his own as he shut his eyes.

Bellatrix inhaled sharply as her vision became cloaked under his spell. Her other hand gripped for him, ensuring that he was still there. "What is this magic?" she demanded with a sneer.

He focused on noise. Loud chaotic noise. The sound of pottery breaking, muggle automobiles colliding, an owl's screech in your ear.

Bellatrix screamed, disoriented as her ears were filled with intolerable, piercing, and deafening sound that existed only in her own mind. She struggled against him as Draco held her wrists in place then swiftly moved his head and released his grip on her. With Draco no longer fighting against her, Bellatrix lunged with the dagger and toppled forward as the blade stabbed harshly into the depths of the grassy earth where Draco's head used to be.

The veil of darkness and chaotic noise had began to lift as Draco's concentration and stamina ran dry. He shoved his aunt off , throwing her onto the dirt floor, as he reached for the dagger.

Unexpectedly, Bellatrix started to shake with laughter as her head rose, her wild hair in disarray covered everything but her grotesque smile. As she pulled herself up, the long, straight shape of Draco's wand appeared grasped within Bellatrix's fingers.

"No!" he screamed.

"Avada Kedav-"

She choked.

A gargling sound escaped her lips where the incantation briefly lived.

Draco struck again, and blood sputtered out of her mouth.

He stabbed her again with her own blade, a third time in Bellatrix's back. The words did not leave her mouth.

Draco's wand slipped out of her hand and onto the ground below.

A final time, Draco stabbed his aunt Bellatrix in the back, and with a final bloody cough, she collapsed forward, unmoving.

Draco's breath was ragged and frenzied, his chest rose and fell as he lay collapsed on his dead aunt's corpse. His fingers were white as snow as they clutched onto the silver handle of the blade. He slowly released it, afraid that she would come back to life and take away everything he ever loved. When he was sure she was gone forever, Draco peeled himself off of her and crawled on his knees toward his beloved who laid there, barely breathing, barely alive.

With the lightest feathery touch, he ran his fingers over her forehead to pull her hair out of her face. Draco's vision became blurred as he held her in his arms, tears dropping down onto her cheek. He shook with silent sobs as he held her, wishing he was dreaming. Wishing he would wake up again like the nightmare he'd had before.

In the faint distance, Malfoy could hear the sound of his name somewhere. He didn't care. Let them come for him, let the Death Eaters come and kill him. As long as she remained safe and alive, who cares.

"Malfoy!"

He ran his fingers through her hair, cradling her as he rocked back and forth.

"Come on, ye'v got te leave, more've come!"

Draco looked up for a brief moment to see the looming figure of the Keeper of Keys and Grounds shouting at him.

"Oh Her'mione, what've they done te' ye?" Before Draco could respond, Hagrid reached down and scooped up Hermione in his arms.

"No," Draco said, his voice coarse, "don't take her -"

He sprung to his feet after her, while Hagrid turned and placed her on the back of a large Hippogriff which Draco had not noticed until that moment.

"Ye'v got to go _now_ ," Hagrid said, "They'll kill the both of ye - get on Otium, she knows where to take yeh."

Hagrid sobbed and shook his head, a large tear falling down his cheek as he wrapped leather straps around the unconscious body of Hermione to fasten her into place. Draco moved quickly. His deft hands picked up his and Bellatrix's wand, Hermione's splintered wand pieces, and shoved everything into her bookbag which he threw over his shoulder before turning to Hagrid.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, realizing quickly that there wasn't anywhere safe to turn to.

In response, Hagrid bent down, picked Draco up by his waist, and quickly placed him onto the Hippogriff. Draco scowled in response, but wrapped his arms around Hermione as the creature huffed and squirmed in disapproval.

"S'alright, girl, get them te safety," Hagrid cooed to the two thousand pound beast. He turned to Draco and fastened a leather strap around him. "Otium will take ye to the Forbidden Forest where the centaurs'll take care of ye til everythin' here's safe. Take good care of our Hermione."

"Centaurs!" Draco asked incredulously. Before he could get a response, Hagrid nudged the Hippogriff forward with a smack on it's back and Otium sprung ahead, running into a flying start before she glid toward the night sky once again driving Draco away from Hogwarts.


End file.
